


Will "Cook" for Food

by skimmingthesurface, SylviaW1991



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, M/M, Nerds in Love, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:16:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 121,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4188246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skimmingthesurface/pseuds/skimmingthesurface, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylviaW1991/pseuds/SylviaW1991
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on: ‘sorry i set the fire alarm in our building off again for the forty-eighth time i was trying to cook’ AU prompt. </p><p>Paranormal mystery writer Dipper Pines really doesn't mean to keep setting his kitchen on fire. His appliances just hate him. But the next time it happens, he's getting evicted even if the landlord is his Grunkle Stan.</p><p>Overhearing that threat, high school English teacher and neighbor Wirt Palmer can't just let it happen. Dipper seems nice enough, after all, and no one deserves to be homeless. Offering cooking lessons seems like a good gesture and it's about time he do something neighborly.</p><p>And how can Dipper resist the offer from his very cute neighbor?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

At least the sirens had stopped. The man bit his lip, removing a worn ball cap to run his fingers through brown curls, and kept himself at the edge of the crowd gathered outside the old brick building. His gaze flicked up and, like most of the others, it settled on the smoke still billowing from one, single window.

His window.

Again.

He’d only lived in the place two months and this had to be, at least, the forty-eighth time or so that he’d set the alarm off. Only the tenth or so time that it had been bad enough for the fire department to show up, but he’d actually realized there was smoke coating his apartment, the sudden difficulty he’d had seeing his laptop an abrupt and unpleasant clue. Throwing open his window and aiming the fan at it to direct as much of the smoke outside as possible had alerted his 9-1-1 happy upstairs neighbor, and there they all were.

Two in the morning and evacuated from the building so one single stupid apartment could have a fire put out. Whoops.

A heavy sigh sounded behind him. “Why do you keep setting the building on fire?”

Whatever irritation that was intended to be in the man’s tone was padded by the way his eyelids struggled to stay at even half-mast and the fact that he was in pale yellow pajamas, the flannel bottoms matching the long-sleeved, button-front shirt. He even had slippers on, though they were two different pairs at that. One navy blue and backless, the other resembling more of a brown loafer with a little tie on the top. Dark brown hair stuck up every which way and coupled with the fact that his frown resembled more of a pout, he gave off the air of absolutely being the most non-threatening person in the immediate vicinity, annoyed or otherwise.

The firebug jumped anyway, whirling around. “ _Geez_ , man. Give a guy a freaking heart attack.” Like a fire alarm at this time of night might do to someone. He returned the hat to his head, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s not the _building_. It’s just... my kitchen.”

“I’d be inclined to agree if it was just your kitchen that had to be evacuated. As it stands…” The man gestured to the crowd they stood on the edge of. “I don’t think we all live in your kitchen.”

“Well... Sorry? It’s not like it’s on purpose. My appliances hate me. Well, they hate when I try to use them.” His brow furrowed, eyes finding the plume of smoke again. At least it seemed thinner now. “I’m gonna need another new toaster.”

Sleepy eyes widened as he lifted his gaze to the window as well. “ _That’s_ from your toaster? What were you trying to cook in there? A steak?”

“No, just... toast. It was the same thing last time, so I thought a different kind with that anti-fire... thing would help.” He pouted, couldn’t help it. “Kinda didn’t.”

The man with the mismatched slippers blinked twice. “You’re telling me you’ve been causing the entire building to evacuate every night for the past two months... because of toast.”

“Okay, it’s not every night. This is only the second time this week.” It was Tuesday. “And it’s not always at night. And it’s totally not always toast. I mean- Okay, today and yesterday it was toast. But last Friday it was my microwave. I was just heating something up, and... I maybe hit the buttons wrong.”

He lowered his gaze to stare at him, mouth hanging open for a beat before his lips clamped together tightly. His shoulders jerked and his hand lifted to cover his mouth to help muffle the snort-like sound masking the laugh that threatened to burst out of him. His eyes lit up with it though, nose wrinkling as he couldn’t quite hide the breathy giggles, and he had to close his eyes and tilt his head away.

“Sorry- sorry,” he managed, waving in his direction. “It’s just- for weeks I’ve- I had my students coming up with these theories and- and it’s just- it’s just you can’t cook!”

“I-” He tried hard to be offended, but his gaze had latched onto his face - onto his wrinkled nose in particular - and he couldn’t get over the fact that the man he recognized as his across the hall neighbor was really, painfully cute.

And there he was, the idiot who set fire to the building with kitchen appliances. “Okay, yeah, I’m pretty bad. I guess. I just- I don’t know. I get caught up in writing or whatever and then, y’know, suddenly there’s smoke everywhere. I don’t know how it happens.”

Smothering the rest of his laughter, his neighbor wiped at his eyes and flashed him a grin. “I’m- I’m really sorry. I don’t really have a filter when I’m this sleep-deprived, I shouldn’t have- it was rude, I’m sorry. I just can’t believe that’s what this all boils down to.” He raked a hand through his thoroughly mussed up hair. “Guess it just goes to show that sometimes the simplest answer is… the answer. Okay, lost wherever that was going, but that doesn’t really matter because what do I know about simple? I’m an English teacher, I overcomplicate everything. I also babble. Like I am right now. Sorry.”

“No, it’s... It’s fine.” He shrugged, jamming his hands into the pockets of faded jeans. “So... a teacher. I knew it. I mean, you leave every day at the same time in your sweaters and with your satchel. So I figured it was either teacher, student, or... librarian. You seem like you’d be a librarian.”

“Yeah?” He seemed pleased with that, shuffling his slippers on the asphalt of the complex’s parking lot, arms hugging his middle as he let his gaze rove over him slowly. “Didn’t peg you as a writer, though in hindsight it kinda all makes sense. Mysterious recluse across the hall who seems to only leave the apartment for take-out or contemplative walks around the parking lot. Obviously a writer. Or, you know, a potential serial killer, maybe. That was one of the theories. That you setting off the fire alarm every night was to cover up the screams of your victims.” He blinked as his lips parted on an “oh” of realization. “The countless boxes of Chinese food all make sense now.”

“Nobody’s ever thought of me as a writer, so that’s not a surprise. Serial killer’s not.” He shrugged, grin flashing. “So-”

“ _Dipper_! How many times are you going to bring 9-1-1 to my building, you arsonist in training?!”

“Okay. Nice to actually talk to you. I’m gonna go get chewed out now.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the shout and sighed as he strolled over to their landlord and, luckily, the kitchen-cursed guy’s great-uncle.

The man in the mismatched slippers lifted his hand in an awkward sort of wave, made especially more so by the fact that his neighbor’s back was turned to him. Lips quirked up in a half-smile, they tentatively formed the name Dipper as his mind turned over the curious name. A curious name for a curious man with a curious habit of setting fire to his kitchen. Because he couldn’t cook. He huffed out a laugh to himself and shook his head as he prepared to wait out the fire department’s call, not even minding that he’d have to be up in a little less than four hours getting ready to teach a band of juvenile miscreants.

Okay, no, he still minded. He just didn’t mind as much.

****

\----

****

He knew - as the wail of a siren drowned out the mixtape he had playing and flashing lights flickering in his rearview mirror forced him to pull off to the right several streets from his apartment building, somehow he just knew - that the fire truck that sped past him shared his destination. He wasn’t disappointed.

As the English teacher pulled up outside of the once-again burning building, his gaze went right to the window of the apartment across the hall from his and the dark cloud that billowed from it like the smokestack of a steam engine. Two days. He’d made it two days before attempting to cook again, it seemed.

“Might be a new record,” he murmured to himself, putting his car in park since he couldn’t very well squeeze past the firefighters and light crowd to get to his allotted parking space. He’d move it later.

Gathering his satchel and manilla folder filled with essays on Gatsby to be graded, he stepped out of the car to join the disgruntled fray. He scanned the small smattering of residents, not as many people home at four in the afternoon as there were at two in the morning, hesitant to admit to himself that he was searching for one face in particular.

He hadn’t seen much of his neighbor in the past two days, not that he saw him that much to begin with, and with a head slightly clearer thanks to the miracle of caffeine in a cup, he couldn’t help feeling mildly mortified for the way that he’d spoken to him out of the blue. Okay, mildly mortified was putting it… well, mildly. He was embarrassed, though the man across the hall - Dipper, right, his name was apparently Dipper - hadn’t seemed to mind, and even admitted to noticing him. No one really tended to notice mild-mannered, high school English teachers. At least, not in his experience as one anyway. Where was he going with this? Right, finding his neighbor. Since he couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d pretty much botched up first impressions - he’d been in his pajamas and his slippers hadn’t even matched - he intended on trying again as a much more put-together, less-likely-to-insult-you-to-your-face, rational human being.

He just hadn’t had the opportunity yet. Yeah, that was it. It had only been two days, after all.

He wondered if he’d gotten a new toaster already, or if it was his microwave again. Perhaps he had a blender and he burned out the motor and it happened to be near the paper towels and somehow caused a spark that then sent the roll aflame. Okay, that was reaching a bit. Plus, why would a guy who couldn’t cook own a blender?

The gruff voice of his landlord cut through the teacher’s internal ramblings, drawing his attention right to- well, the subject his attention had been on previously.

“Look, kid, you’ve gotta stop doing this.”

The man shifted like a scolded child, sitting on the curb. “I know, Grunkle Stan. I’m sorry. I mean, I didn’t know glass pots were for serving and-” He looked up from the laptop he’d been pecking away at, smile apologetic. “I’ll buy a new stove.”

“You bet you will.” The old man shook his head. “But I’m serious now, so listen up. I’ve gotten complaints from every single tenant in this place. A few cancelled leases, and my insurance is - Well, just between you and me, it’s not getting paid. It’s robbery.”

“You’d know about that,” Dipper joked and got his hat twisted to the side.

“I said I’m serious, you little idiot. If it happens again-”

“I know, Grunkle Stan.” Amusement fled. “I’ve already been digging around for a new place, okay? Anybody else would’ve kicked me out the second time, so it’s fine.”

“I don’t want to do it, so just stay out of your damn kitchen.”

“I... Okay.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, straightening his hat while his great-uncle stormed off to smooth things over with the fire chief. Who he was now on first-name basis with. “Frick,” Dipper muttered.

His across-the-hall neighbor shuffled his feet as he mulled over the details of the conversation he’d basically just eavesdropped on. Well, the fact that the landlord and firebug tenant were somehow related - he wasn’t quite sure what a ‘grunkle’ was - or at least close in a family friend sort of way explained why the man in the baseball cap hadn’t been kicked out yet. For a split second, he felt a pang of guilt for his own complaint that he’d filed after the first month - politely phrased and extremely courteous because this was his landlord who controlled his rent and he was strictly a non-confrontational person - before he remembered that sleep was a necessary thing to have in order to function and teach teenagers and he had every right to complain about not being able to sleep in the place he was paying to sleep at.

Still, he mused as he pursed his lips and surveyed the disheartened man before him, it wasn’t like he wanted him to get kicked out. He just wanted the fire alarm to stop waking him up in the middle of the night. His heart went out to the guy as the bill of his cap shaded his eyes and he drummed his fingers against the folder he clutched to his chest. Maybe there was a way to keep both from happening. This Dipper guy just needed to stop attempting to cook altogether or learn how, right?

“I could teach you.” The teacher blinked as he realized words had spilled right out of his mouth before he’d even had a chance to process them. His cheeks warmed quickly. Oh boy, and he was fully awake and everything, he didn’t have sleep-deprivation to blame for his lack of a filter now. Maybe he didn’t hear him.

Or maybe he did.

Dipper looked up, blinking. “What?”

“I- uh…” Wide-eyed, he hugged his folder tighter and mentally apologized to each and every one of his student’s papers as he cleared his throat. “I couldn’t help overhearing…” _Eavesdropping._ “...your predicament and I guess decided to offer to teach you how to cook? So you won’t get kicked out, you know? It’s not like I go around offering to teach people things despite my profession because that- that would be weird. And creepy. This is weird and creepy, I’m sorry, just ignore me. Forget I said anything.”

“Um. Wow. You weren’t kidding when you said you babble.” _Stop being cute, stop being cute, stop-_ “Not that I mind. It’s fine. You’re fine.” Dipper pushed his hat back, giving his brain a minute to collect his thoughts. “I can ignore it if you didn’t mean it, but... If you meant it, I wouldn’t mind. This place is basically- I sort of grew up here with my sister. So I’d really kind of rather not get kicked out just because I’m an idiot.”

“You don’t seem like an idiot.” He cleared his throat, halting his urge to flee as he got a better glimpse of the man’s face. “But, um, yeah. I meant it. I mean, we’re neighbors, after all. I’m not, like, a five-star chef or anything, but I could help you with the basics. Like glass pots are for serving.”

He winced but smiled. “Right, yeah. Know that now. Um. So. Yeah. When? Like. I’m kind of working on a deadline, but my schedule’s pretty fluid.”

“Well, uh… how about tomorrow around five?” His face grew hot again and he could feel it creeping up to the tips of his ears - his students always loved to tease him for it, how easy it was to fluster him. In this case, it was how much this sounded like they were setting up a date. A date with a pretty cute guy, despite the fact that he dressed like some of the kids he taught. It suited him. But this wasn’t a date, this was just… being neighborly. “This is usually the time I get home on weekdays, so that would give me time to settle in, but if that doesn’t work for you, then we can shoot for something this weekend.”

“No, man, that works. If I don’t show, just knock on my door. I’m kind of the worst at keeping track of time.”

“Okay, sure.” He nodded, lips quirking up some as he filed away that tidbit of information concerning Dipper- Dipper… “Oh, wow. Heh, probably should’ve thought to introduce myself properly in addition to offering you cooking lessons,” he huffed out a laugh, smile turning sheepish as he shifted the folder to one arm and held out his hand. “I’m Wirt. Wirt Palmer. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, no, I know.” He reached up, grinning as they shook hands. “You get those packages from Lakeville now and then and they’re always knocking on my door when you don’t answer. Oh. And, uh, Pines. Dipper Pines. Hi.”

“Hi.” His heart skipped a beat like it hadn’t since he was in high school himself and it was a struggle not to duck his head as his smile grew. “I’d say sorry about the packages, but consider them payback for all those nights of interrupted sleep your kitchen escapades caused.”

“Wow, okay. So Wirt Palmer’s a sarcastic English teacher.” Dipper laughed, giving his hand a squeeze before releasing him. “So you wanna sit or whatever? It’ll be a while before we can go inside.”

His hand tingled as he used it to tug on the strap of his satchel. “Or whatever?” Wirt couldn’t help echoing with a quirk to his eyebrow, glance between the man and the curb brief before he shrugged. “Sure, if you don’t mind sharing your office space.”

“Pretty sure I can manage with a little less room on the sidewalk. I mean, my other plan is to get out of here and get food because I’m seriously starving.” He shrugged. “But you can be a buffer between me and all the glares I’m getting from literally everyone.”

Wirt snorted, then flipped open his satchel to rifle around inside. “Well, I’d hate to play a part in you starving,” he murmured as he pulled out a chocolate chip, chewy granola bar from one of the pockets and offered it to him as he sat. “To tide you over until you decide on your plan of action.”

With a dramatic little gasp, he gripped his shirt above his heart. “You have just become my new favorite person, and I hope you cherish this moment forever.”

Eyes widening with delight, Wirt laughed openly and tossed the bar onto his lap. “It’s one of the highlights of my life, I assure you.”

He unwrapped the granola bar and closed his laptop. Deadline or not, he was interested in this neighbor of his. Cute face, smart mouth, and just nice - they made up a very attractive package. Plus, reading without the glasses he’d forgotten in his living room was starting to give him a headache. “So because I’m nosy, Lakeville’s got me curious. Family there or what?”

****

\----

****

He’d grown up there, apparently. With mother, step-dad, and brother who was nine years his junior. His one question on biological dad’s whereabouts had been met with a vague “New York” and a wave of his hands, so that had been dropped fairly quickly and Dipper had segued into questions about his students.

_That_ had been an interesting conversation, though Dipper’s interest in high school drama had been easily overshadowed by his interest in the storyteller. When Wirt told a story, he really told it. Emotions passed over that cute face like rippling water, his hands never staying still.

Except for those moments where self-awareness flickered and his voice stuttered to a pause. Dipper had been more than happy to fill the gaps with more questions, requests for clarification. Little things to show that he was, yes, interested in the conversation. It was adorable, really, to discover that his neighbor was shy.

An animated, shy English teacher.

Dipper was pathetically infatuated with him, but blamed it on his lack of social interaction aside from skyping his sister and chatting with his publisher and his agent. Really, he didn’t even know yet if the guy was gay, bi, pan, what-have-you. It didn’t help that his flirting style was straight out of high school - shoulder bumps, teasing words, and grins. Pathetic.

Pathetic and pretty inspiring, actually. With deadlines looming and his latest project nearly finished, he found himself massively editing one of the side characters. It was going to set him back a solid day, at the very least. More since day one of his cooking lessons were set to start at five that afternoon. He even set an alarm to remind himself. Well, he set three.

All three went off. Five on the dot, then five minutes after, then another five minutes after that. All were turned off with impatient, distracted flicks of his wrist, lost in his writing. It was the same issue that plagued his cooking attempts, really, but there wasn’t any negative intentions behind tuning out and shutting down reminders. The movements were absent, his mind tuned to the world he created rather than the one he was supposed to be living in. The point of the reminders had simply been forgotten.

At a little after a quarter past the hour, a hesitant knock tapped against the front door, almost too soft to draw him out of his writing reverie. It was followed immediately by a firmer knock, as if wits needed to be gathered in order complete the action.

Dipper blinked, head twisting to stare over his couch at the door. Who-? Oh! “Crap,” he mumbled, shoving the laptop aside and scrambling to the door. He had just enough awareness to whisk off his glasses and put them in the case he kept in his pocket before he swung open the door. “Crap,” he repeated, this time to Wirt’s face. “Hi. Hey. What time is it? I set an alarm.” He squinted. “I thought I did.”

Rocking back on his heels, hands clasped in front of him, the nervous energy that crackled around Wirt subsided at the sight of him and mention of an alarm. “Oh, it’s- just about five-twenty. It’s not that late,” he assured him, releasing his own hand to wave it off with the other.

“Okay. Just let me-” His phone went off, so he huffed and grabbed Wirt’s wrist to drag him inside, closing the door behind him. “You can come in,” was unnecessarily said. “Hang on. Need to put stuff away and- Phone. Yeah.” He snagged a cordless off of a sofa table pushed against the wall. “‘Sup? Yep. Hey, man. No, just- Mm. Nah. Not my thing.”

Balancing the phone between his shoulder and his cheek, he went further into the living room. “No, dude, look, I told you. Parties and me don’t mix. No. Yeah, well-” A leather bound journal was plucked up from the coffee table, its page marked and closed and dropped right back to the table. A swipe of his finger on the mouse pad brought his laptop back to life so he could save his work. “Okay, but no. Still no. Okay. Look, man, it’s a pen name for a reason. No public appearances, no parties. Not even as Dipper Pines, mmhm. I said no.

“Okay, yeah, hanging up now.” Dipper laughed. “Okay, well call back if you want but I won’t be here. Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. You don’t know. Hey, I am _not_ a recluse. I’m just-”

Suddenly he faltered, the phone nearly dropping. “Oh my god, shut up. I don’t need to- I am _not_ answering that- _God_.” Cheeks burning, he ended the call and tossed the phone to the couch cushions as he closed the laptop and set it on the coffee table alongside the journal.

“Sorry about that. My agent’s a pain in the-” He paused, having run his hands through his hair. “Hat, right. Hat, hat, hat, bedroom. Be right back.” A whirlwind of energy, Dipper disappeared down the hall and left Wirt standing in his living room.

“Oh- ‘kay.” Wirt pursed his lips, hands going right back to wringing as he hovered uncertainly close to the front door. His heart beat at a frantic pace, as if he’d been caught up in the flurry alongside him, and he exhaled slowly in an attempt to relax. Relax, yeah. So standing in his neighbor’s living room was not exactly planned, but it wasn’t like they wouldn’t be spending the next hour or so together anyway. Besides, he’d just learned two important facts about the enigma that was Dipper Pines. One, he apparently had an agent, so he was more than the casual blogger his demeanor had led him to believe - what with the jeans and flannel shirts and faded baseball cap. Two, he looked really cute when he blushed.

“Oh boy,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his palm over his face as it warmed. “Keep it together, Wirt. Next thing you know you’ll be waxing poetic about him and we’re _not_ going there. It’s just cooking. It’s just cooking. So he won’t end up homeless and on the streets. I’m a means to an end. And wow, you’re still talking to yourself outloud in his living room, shut up already.” He tapped the heel of his hand to his forehead several times, jerking to attention when he heard the man returning.

“Hey, sorry.” He was hopping on one foot, tugging at the heel of a sneaker to get it on. “You caught me in the middle of a pretty nasty murder. So my head’s kind of, like, all over the place.”

Wirt’s eyes widened. “Uh…” Writer, right. He was only writing a murder. Probably. Hopefully. He attempted to cross his arms casually. “Right, no, I get it. Being caught in the middle of something and having to switch gears. Though- um, my students will be happy to know that the serial killer theory hasn’t been completely debunked.”

“Well, they say write what you know.” He grinned, doubling back to grab the phone. It was returned to the cradle and his keys were grabbed from the bowl beside it. “So are you one of those teachers who talks about his personal life more than the curriculum?”

“They wish.” Wirt shook his head, following Dipper’s actions and inching closer to the door. “The whole theory thing started when one of my students asked why the bags under my eyes looked deeper than the Grand Canyon and- well, they say I kinda snapped and went on this whole spiel about the whole nightly evacuation thing, so we spent the rest of the class period making up farfetched scenarios. We don’t spend entire class periods on it anymore - and it’s just the one class, my second period sophomore honors kids - but they’ll ask every morning if I spent the night outside the apartment rather than in it. And they all really want you to be some deranged lunatic, let me tell you.”

“Aw. Now I feel normal and boring.” He shoved his keys into his pocket, patting them to make sure he had everything. Keys, wallet, cell phone - check. With a smile, Dipper pushed open the door. “After you.”

Wirt smiled as he ducked his head, then out the door. He’d left his own unlocked, being just across the hall for a minute or two at most, so jiggled the handle and held his door open for Dipper in turn while he locked up his place. With a sweep of his arm, he gestured for him to enter his apartment, a mirror image of the writer’s floorplan.

The decor spoke volumes of Wirt’s tastes, every piece of furniture in his living room looked to have been purchased from a garage sale or thrift store. Three mismatched, vintage bookshelves lined one wall, each one filled with books to the point where they couldn’t stand straight, crammed in on top of one another with the occasional, stray slip of paper peeking out. A collection of various clocks were mounted on another wall, each one a different style with no rhyme or reason between them from the cuckoo clock to the swinging pendulums. An olive green rug was thrown over the beige carpet between the television set and the pale blue, paisley print couch. The manilla folder full of essays sat open on a trunk acting as a coffee table, a half-finished mug of tea with the bag still steeping in it next to the pages steadily marked in green pen.

Wirt hurried over to grab the mug with an embarrassed cough, as if it was blemish on how he kept his home. He gestured with it towards the kitchen, leading the way. “Was trying to get a head start on my grading before meeting up,” he explained, pouring the cup out in the sink and leaving it in the basin for later.

There wasn’t as much personality in the kitchen, but the pictures littered the front of the fridge told their own story. What could be deduced as family and friends filled the photographs, though mostly they seemed to be of a boy that shifted between child and teen, held up by magnets bearing quotes from various poems. Aside from that, it could’ve been anyone’s kitchen, save for the bluebird print dish towels hanging off the oven and the collection of tea cups and mugs sitting on the counter in a straight row. An old, copper tea kettle sat on the front left burner of the stove and it sloshed with the water leftover inside as Wirt moved it to the one behind.

“You've got, like, the most random place, and it's literally the best thing. The only reason any of my stuff matches is that my sister picked it all out.” Dipper tossed him a grin, gaze shifting to the fridge. “I’m guessing the kid’s your brother?”

“Yeah. Greg.” Wirt nodded, fondness slipping into his smile as he opened the fridge. “I feel like someone should’ve been with me when I bought all that out there. I told myself to stick to a theme, and then just ended up picking whatever caught my interest I guess. Didn’t help that I didn’t buy everything all at once either.” Right before he grabbed a package from the shelf, he glanced over his shoulder. “Do you want anything to drink?” he asked, remembering to play the part of good host. “You know, while we get set up and everything.”

“Yeah. Water, soda, whatever.” Dipper hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, rocking back on his heels. “So, question, am I getting dinner out of this, or is it a show and tell session?”

“Well, I did intend for us to actually eat the food to make sure it’s edible, yeah,” he chuckled, grabbing a can of soda from inside the door and handing it off to him. “I wasn’t actually sure what kind of things you liked, but figured we could start with something pretty standard. I mean, I don’t think we can really go wrong with spaghetti and meatballs.”

Wirt took a soda for himself as well, along with what he’d gone in to get from the fridge in the first place. “And I’m giving you the option of making your own or using pre-made meatballs that you just stick in a pot with sauce. It’s your call. I mean, either work. Just wasn’t sure how much of a challenge you wanted on the first lesson. Or if you even like stuff from a bag.” He held up the ground beef in one hand and bag of meatballs in the other. “Or if you even like spaghetti for that matter.”

“Dude, I will eat literally anything that’s not...” He tilted his head, thinking a moment. “Okay, I’ll just eat anything. But, mm, out of a bag seems boring. So screw it, let’s just make them.”

“Alright. Challenge it is.” Wirt grinned, putting back the bag, tone shifting a little as teacher mode set in. “So let’s start with making note of what you can do in the kitchen. Is there anything that you’re already comfortable doing?”

“Uh. I can cut things into pieces.” Shrugging, he cracked open the soda can and gestured with it. “I don’t really think that’s part of spaghetti.”

“No, not really. Though you can cut up and grate some cheese later if you want.” Wirt pointed to the oven. “Okay, lesson one. Pre-heat the oven. Do you know what any of these buttons mean?”

“Add turning stuff on to the list of kitchen stuff I can do.” He took a drink, staring at the oven and the array of buttons on the slim panel. “Pre-heat it to what?”

“Four-fifty.” Wirt confirmed, sidling past him as he rolled up his sleeves, sweater bunching around his elbows while the long-sleeved, collared shirt underneath was buttoned in place. He washed his hands at the sink, nodding for Dipper to do the same as he dried them with the bluebird dish towel. “So, basically what we’ll do is get the meatballs in the oven first since they’ll take about twenty minutes if the temperature stays even, then start the water boiling for the pasta.”

“Uh-huh.” Only half-listening, Dipper had tugged the bill of his cap low so he could stare at him without getting caught. It wasn’t as though Wirt was pristinely put together anyway, general wardrobe aside, so something as simple as him rolling up his sleeves shouldn’t have been a big deal. His mouth was watering, though, and it wasn’t because of food.

Crap. He was doomed. He was going to set his kitchen on fire and never be able to come back if he didn’t focus. Swallowing, he hit the “bake” button and upped the temperature from the defaulted three-fifty. “So, uh...” He stuck his hands under the faucet, feeling his cheeks burn with color and hating himself for it. “What’s next?”

“Uh…” Wirt blinked, hesitating for a moment, the way he was hiding his face not escaping him. Had he said something wrong? He’d only been talking about food. Brow furrowing, he bent down to grab a corningware baking dish from the cupboard to distract himself from flipping through the possible what-ifs that would only send him into a tizzy.

“Well, uh, first we’ll grease this so the meatballs won’t stick to it too badly. I mean, in a perfect world they wouldn’t stick at all, but… you know.” Oh boy, he sounded like an idiot. He cleared his throat as he pointed to one of the cupboards. “You want to handle that while I get the rest of the ingredients together?”

“Sure. Yeah. I can do that.” Dipper took the dish from him, cheeks still pink as he pushed his hat back to find cooking spray in one of the upper cabinets.

Oh. Wirt pursed his lips and hurriedly busied himself with grabbing eggs, bread crumbs, and herbs. Huh, he was blushing. That wasn’t quite what he expected. Again he played back what he’d said or done to warrant such a reaction, but nothing came to mind. Maybe something else entirely was running through his mind that had nothing to do with the here and now, like whatever his agent had said during their phone conversation that made him blush the first time. Yeah, that made sense.

Nodding to himself, mentally swatting at the butterflies filling his stomach, Wirt grabbed a large, glass bowl and stood back to survey the ingredients, making sure he had everything. Sure, yeah, his mysterious mystery neighbor was a lot cuter and more considerate than he’d first pegged him, and a writer with an agent at that, but that didn’t mean he could go around feeling all… fluttery around him like he was no better than the high school students that he taught. He was an adult, gosh darnit. He knew better than to get caught up in pointless crushes that would go nowhere. This was just neighbors being neighbors. A good deed. And a way to maybe avoid being woken up in the middle of the night thanks to burning toasters.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Dipper would _actually_ be interested in him.

The thought was a sobering one, even if Wirt was entirely accepting of it. He didn’t even know where he fell on the spectrum of preferred partners or whatever the kids were calling it these days. He grabbed a knife from his knife block and sliced open the package of ground beef, then set it aside.

“So, um… you can come over here and we can mix all this together.” Wirt glanced over at him, fighting the urge to wring his hands knowing how close they’d end up being in his one-cook kitchen.

Dipper set the greased dish aside, unsure what to do with his hands. The urge to jam them into his pockets wasn’t a wise one since he’d just have to wash them again, and he didn’t want to seem like more of an idiot than he already did.

Even if Wirt was the kind of guy who’d be into other guys, surely he wouldn’t look twice at the moron who needed stupid cooking lessons just to avoid setting his apartment on fire forty-nine freaking times.

He shuffled over to him, blush deepening an embarrassing shade when it clicked that they were shoulder to shoulder. Okay. He could handle this. “Do you, um, measure anything or kind of just chuck it in there?”

Wirt swallowed, shuffling his feet against the linoleum floor, cheeks warming as the nervous fidgeting caused their hips to brush. “Well, uh… depends on what I’m making usually. For this I kinda just eyeball it. Though since this is a cooking lesson, we should probably measure the- the seasoning and breadcrumbs. Yeah.”

“Okay. Sure. Yeah.” Dipper cleared his throat. “Last time Mabel tried showing me how to cook, she kept saying ‘some’ and ‘a little.’ And then she tasted it halfway through and added more of whatever.” His hands lifted, flailing a little. “How the heck am I supposed to follow that? Like, we’ve got all these measuring cups and you’re not even gonna open the drawer. What?”

Wirt laughed as he opened the drawer in front of them and removed a ring of measuring spoons, the half cup following suit. “I’ll spare you from the fate of estimating then.” He tapped the plastic cup on the counter. “Fill this with bread crumbs to start,” he told him, trusting him with the task as he filled the bowl with the ground beef. “Is Mabel… is Mabel your sister?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Dipper filled the cup and hovered it over the bowl. “And just-? Okay.” He dumped it, biting his lip when their arms brushed. Good god, he wasn’t going to survive this. “Um. She’s in Europe again. Working.”

“Oh, wow.” Wirt took two eggs from the carton and handed one to Dipper, cracking the second he kept on the edge of the bowl. “What- uh, what does she do?”

“Fashion design. Her winter collection’s rolling out during Paris’s fashion week next week, so she’s making sure the details are right and whatever.” Catching his tongue between his teeth, Dipper very carefully cracked open the egg and was very pleased when he managed to not get any of the shell into the mixture. “I’m forever a disappointment to her, but she’d love you and your sweaters.”

Thankfully that distracted Wirt from watching his mouth, gaze flicking away as he shook his head. “I seriously doubt someone who’s preparing for fashion week would be interested in- what was it my brother called it? ‘Old man chic.’ Or librarian, apparently.” His lips twisted into a small smile as he handed him a spice container. “One tablespoon of oregano.”

“No, man, you’re adorable. Trust me.” The second the words registered, Dipper nearly dropped the container. “I mean- Uh.” Tablespoon. Tablespoon. It was the one with the “B” in the abbreviation, wasn’t it? “She makes them. Sweaters. Um. Has since we were kids. So. Yeah.” He dumped a tablespoon, pushing the container back his way, struggling not to die of embarrassment. Talk about no filter. Crap.

“O-oh.” Wide-eyed, Wirt’s face flooded with warmth as he did nothing but stare at him for a beat while his heart thudded hard in his chest. Had he really-? He fiddled with the bottle of dried parsley flakes before giving it to Dipper in exchange for the oregano, their arms brushing again.

“That’s- um. That’s pretty cool. Must’ve been nice knowing her calling since then. Oh, and another tablespoon for this, sorry.” This was ridiculous, he had to have heard wrong. There was no way he’d called him “adorable” even if he could still hear the compliment as it rolled of Dipper’s tongue in his head. Distraction, distraction. “When did you realize you wanted to be a writer?”

As eager for the distraction as Wirt, he responded immediately and, surprising himself, honestly. “Sort of in elementary school. I mean, I always liked to read but there were some class projects that required writing and I got a real kick out of it. But it was never, like, something I was going to do professionally. My parents hated the idea, y’know? So I kind of wrote in secret.”

Dipper measured the parsley with more care than he had the oregano, passing it back and following instructions on the next ingredient before continuing. “When I was, like, twenty Grunkle Stan saw some of it because he has absolutely zero sense of personal space and entered it in some competition behind my back. I _flipped_ when I found out, but then I won.” He grinned. “Switched majors from computer science to fiction writing the next day.”

“As someone who teaches fiction to teenagers and shuns technology, I wholeheartedly support that decision.” As the color in his cheeks faded, he smiled back, gaze lingering over his grin, internally marvelling over how infectious it was. “Did you dedicate your unbridled success to him?”

With a snort, Dipper dumped the next ingredient. “I appreciate you assuming I’m a success. But, yeah, the dedication in my first book was ‘For my greedy great-uncle. If this fails, it’s on you.’ He got a kick out of it.”

Wirt’s eyes lit up, lips parting on an “o” of realization. “Great-uncle. _Grunkle_. Wow, that makes so much sense in hindsight.” Laughing to himself, he shook his head as he pulled the bowl closer, all the ingredients in, and eased his fingers into the mixture to start kneading. “I gotta say, I honestly had no idea what it stood for, but that’s really clever actually.”

“Born from the minds of two twelve year old twins who had no idea what they were getting into. Like, we’d never even met the man before, but our parents shipped us out here one summer.” Dipper stepped away, washing his hands again. “So what about you? How’d you settle on high school English teacher? ‘Cause high school once was more than enough for me.”

“Believe me, I thought so too. It definitely wasn’t where I thought I’d end up. I mean, I was always good at English. I loved reading. But… I dunno. Teaching never really seemed like something I could do. Wasn’t exactly great at the whole getting up in front of a group of people and talking thing.” Wirt made a face at himself, keeping his eyes on the bowl as he spoke.

“I guess it was my little brother that helped nudge me in this direction. I used to teach him music- oh, I play the clarinet and sometimes the guitar, and then one summer he bugged me into offering lessons to other kids in the neighborhood and, well, I realized I kinda had a knack for it. Helping people understand things without pressuring them.” He shrugged and started rolling the meat between his fingers to form the balls. “Still took a while to get from there to high school English teacher though. I mean, I got my degree in architecture and design before I realized that was what I wanted to do. Luckily I minored in English, so I had some of those courses under my belt at least.”

“I love that you’ve got architecture and _design_ , and your living room looks the way it does. That’s the best, man.” Dipper hopped onto the counter to sit, grabbing his soda. “But clarinet and guitar? That’s cool. I’ve got a sousaphone I lug up to the roof when I’m working through a block. You still play at all?”

“Yeah, whenever I can. It’s relaxing. Helps calm my mind.” He glanced up from the meatballs, steadily lining them up in neat little rows in the baking dish and raised an eyebrow. “Sousaphone, huh. So you’re also the one who makes that ungodly racket on top of getting us evacuated every night. Good to know,” he teased, surprising himself with how easily he was able to. “And hey, if you’re not going to roll meatballs, go fill a pot with water. We’re moving onto lesson number two. Boiling water.”

“Boiling water sucks, okay? It takes _forever_.” Still, he slipped off the counter. “Where are the-? Okay.” He tugged open the cabinet Wirt gestured to and grabbed a big one that looked like what his sister would use for pasta. “How full should it be?”

“Mm. A little more than half.” Wirt checked on him over his shoulder, sensing that this was where they’d be venturing into slightly more dangerous territory once the stove was on. “The trick to boiling water is finding something else cooking-related to do while you wait.”

Dipper stuck the pot under the faucet, instantly more bored with cooking than he’d been while mixing the meatballs together. “Like...?”

“Like rolling meatballs.” Wirt grinned, somehow delighting in the fact that he acted no different from his students when they lost interest in things. “Or, you know, chopping vegetables. Make a side dish. Usually there’s something else that can be done while the water’s boiling that doesn’t involve leaving the kitchen and potentially forgetting about it.”

“Well, I mean, I usually set an alarm.” He set the pot on the stove, averting his gaze. “Except, y’know, then I forget why I set the alarm in the first place and keep going.”

“After two months of almost burning down the building, I think it’s safe to assume that that’s not working and you should try something else.”

“It’s not the whole building. It’s just-” Dipper glanced up, smile sheepish. “Okay, okay, you’ve got a point. A very small point. How long is this going to take exactly?”

“Once the water’s boiling, spaghetti should only take eleven minutes or so. And water should be good to go in five. As long as you don’t hover over it and watch it.” Wirt finished with the meatballs and went to the sink to wash his hands of the squishy residue. The oven beeped, signalling that it had reached the ideal temperature. “I’m going to take a risk and trust you to put the meatballs in.”

“You’re so brave, wow,” he deadpanned, sticking his tongue out like a child before hefting the dish and pushing it into the oven. “So... Spaghetti sauce?”

“There’s an already open jar in the fridge.” Wirt nodded towards it as he dried his hands. “But I think you might’ve missed a step. I know you and alarms don’t have the best track record, but it’s still a good idea to set the timer.”

“Oh. Uh. How long?”

“Twenty minutes.” Smile tugging at his lips, he felt a surge of fondness for this man as he punched in the number on the oven’s display that Wirt couldn’t quite bat away in time. He never would’ve pegged kitchen ineptitude as endearing, he reflected as he fetched a small saucepan.

“Oh my god. It’s going to take years,” he complained but was grinning as he checked the fridge for the jar.

“It’s no longer than if you went out to get something,” Wirt laughed.

“Yeah, but going out to get something involves going out. This could be a bad idea. If I actually learn how to cook, maybe I’ll actually become a recluse. The world’ll be at a loss without my face.” Not entirely sure what to do with the jar, he set it down and leaned back against the counter.

“There is such a thing as going out to buy groceries so you actually have something to cook. I think the world will be pleased to know that.” With a sideways smile, Wirt took the jar and popped the lid, pouring it into the small pot so it was about half full, then flicked on the burner to low. “Think it’s time to add the pasta to the water.”

“You mean I can get more than just apples and soda in my fridge? Mind-blowing.” Dipper opened the box of spaghetti noodles and dumped them into the water.

“Oh my gosh.” A sound that was very much a giggle slipped out of him. “You’re such a _brat_. You’re just as bad as a bunch of fifteen-year-olds!”

“I do my best.” Biting his lip, Dipper bumped their shoulders together. Why was this man so unfairly cute? “It’s, like, ninety-percent of my charm.”

“Pfft. I don’t know if I’d call it charm,” he replied, though he certainly was by him.

“Ow, my feelings.” Dipper patted his heart and glanced at the stove. Absolutely nothing was happening. His fingers itched for something else to do.

Wirt tilted his head forward a bit to catch his eye. His attention was incredibly difficult to maintain, but he was nothing if not willing to try. “Want to grate some cheese with me? You’ll get to use some of your cutting things into pieces skills.”

He laughed. “Sure, man.”

After the cheese it was setting the table and after that it was washing the bowl in the sink. There were a few close calls with the sauce nearly bubbling over, but that was more because Wirt couldn’t stop fiddling with the temperature, uncertain whether low was too low or medium-low too medium. At the end of the twenty minutes though, they each had a bowl of spaghetti piled high with sauce, meatballs, and cheese and the kitchen was still in one piece. Nothing smoking, nothing burnt, nothing at risk of being burnt, and their meal was one hundred percent edible.

“And no one had to call 9-1-1.” Wirt lifted his soda can to tap to Dipper’s as they sat down to eat. “I’d call this a successful first lesson.”

Dipper took a bite out of a meatball, humming around it. “Yeah. Your brother was definitely right to push you into teaching.” He propped his elbow onto the table, dropping his cheek into his palm. “Still not convinced I’d actually be able to manage this on my own, but I’m definitely looking forward to a second lesson sometime. If you think you can tolerate me again.”

“I don’t think that’ll be too much of an issue,” Wirt replied, twirling the pasta around his fork, smile turning shy. “This was a lot of fun, actually. I don’t have people over often except my brother really, and on the rare occasions when I do I don’t really feel like… I can be myself, you know? But this was different. You- you’re different.”

“Yeah, well...” Dipper dropped his gaze, poking at a meatball. “I get that. You’re the only person who’s been in my apartment the whole time who wasn’t family or work related.” He glanced back up, smile self-deprecating. “Or the fire department. So I get it. You’re a pretty interesting guy, Wirt.”

He wasn’t, not really. He was just a guy. Still, he ducked his head as pink dusted his cheeks and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you know what they say about those mild-mannered English teachers.”

“Mild-mannered.” He snorted. “Please. You’re - and I hate myself for using this word, but here goes. You’ve got sass for days under all that shy.”

Wirt glanced up quickly, feigning being startled as he pressed his index finger to his lips. “Shh, Dipper, that’s one of my deep, dark secrets. No one’s supposed to know.”

He kicked back in his chair, head falling back on a laugh. “If it is, you’re awful at hiding it. Oh my god. I hope your students appreciate all your crap.”

“The ones who want As do. Or they pretend to, anyway.” Wirt felt his heart skip a beat as he watched him, smile as warm as the food in front of them. “Though most of them know by now the quickest way to earn my favor is to open up discussion on Dickinson or Plath that’ll last for an entire period. It’s also the quickest way to kill class time though, so there’s that. Little do they know, I write my finals ahead of time, so I hope they were taking notes.”

“A poetry guy, huh?” Dipper pointed his fork at him. “Careful. You’re getting more interesting.”

“Well, then enough about me.” Wirt pressed his lips together against his amused smile. “What about you? What kind of books do you write? I know that’s like… the worst question to ask a writer, but I’m curious.”

“No, there are way worse questions. Trust me. I’m contractually obligated to run a twitter feed and the internet comes up with the most awful questions ever. That one’s easy. I write paranormal mysteries. It’s a serial series and, well, probably not exactly up your alley.”

“Hold on.” Wirt arched an eyebrow. “Just because I’m a poetry guy doesn’t mean I’m not a paranormal mystery guy. I will literally read anything at least once, but it just so happens I enjoy a good mystery. I’m in the middle of one right now that’s pretty good. Also part of a series, but there are only three books so far. Greg got me into it.”

“Yeah? Alright. Who’s it by? Always nice to know who I’m competing with.”

“Alex Hirsch. You heard of him?”

Dipper almost bit his tongue, but managed to keep chewing anyway as he nodded. “Yeah. Not much competition there, though.”

Wirt blinked, eyes widening slightly as he swallowed, and his brow furrowed. “That’s… that’s kind of harsh, don’t you think? I mean, personally I feel that the characters are surprisingly complex for the genre. In a refreshing way. The protagonist actually seems like a person, like yeah he’s psychic, but that’s not all there is to him. There was obvious thought put into how he is as a person first, I could see that much halfway through the second book. He’s compelling, as is the plant and payoff system. I know those are standard and pretty formulaic for most novels of the genre, but it goes beyond the typical cheap thrills and who-done-its that I feel a lot of modern mysteries tend to rely on nowadays. Not to mention the writing just seems really accessible to me while at the same time doesn’t limit itself to a certain level of reading comprehension.

“It’s daring for something in that particular genre, and I think it makes it stand out amongst all the other vampire, werewolf, ghouls, and supernatural what-have-yous- not that yours is run-of-the-mill either, I’m sure, but uh…” Wirt paused in his rambling, reeling himself back in as he realized just how he’d been carrying on, defending this book series that he’d solely invested himself in for the simple pleasure of having something to read in his spare time and not overanalyze, and that Dipper was just looking at him like… “Um. Sorry, I just- I… I just wouldn’t necessarily write it off like that…”

“No, it’s okay. Forget _US Weekly_ ’s ‘dark, biting wit’ comments and give me a Wirt Palmer review on the dust jacket any day.” Dipper was grinning at him, expression nothing short of delighted. His hands were folded, chin dropped onto them while he enjoyed the passionate display. “I meant no competition there because I can't really compete against myself. But thanks, man.”

Wirt stared at him for a beat, stunned for a quiet second before his heart remembered that this was something it needed to panic over and his face turned red. “Oh my gosh,” he choked out, dropping his fork to rake his hand through his hair, gripping the strands. “I- you didn’t- why didn’t you just _say_ that in the first place?”

“Well, _technically_ I’m not supposed to give out my pen name. But if you’re going to defend my honor like that, I can let that slide just this once. Don’t freak out, though. You have no idea how much I appreciated that.”

He tried not to, blowing out a shaky breath as he lowered his hand. He wanted to avert his gaze, the urge to find the nearest rock and crawl under it prodding him, but that smile was too much to look away from. Boy, did he feel like an idiot though. Wirt shifted in his chair, face still flushed and heart still racing as he pursed his lips, his attempt to frown ending up more of a pout.

“You didn’t have to let me go on for as long as I did.”

The urge to kiss him shivered down Dipper’s spine. He really wanted to run his tongue over that pouty bottom lip and kiss him into oblivion. He wet his own lips instead, lifting his gaze to meet Wirt’s. “No, probably not, but it was really nice to hear. I never get to, you know? I don’t get the fan interaction other authors get with book signings and the like. And, honestly, my social media skills are crap, so I don’t even see the online outpouring unless it’s something Mabel sees and sends my way. So that was... That was really awesome. I’m really glad you like them. Seriously.”

The tension knotting Wirt’s shoulders subsided, expression smoothing out as he absorbed his reasoning. Of course he’d want to hear his works praised after the countless hours that surely went into fabricating such a world and its inhabitants. He hadn’t stayed silent to mess with him. He honestly wanted to hear his take on it, and probably hadn’t expected such a long-winded response at that. Wirt liked to imagine that novels were extensions of their authors, regardless of whatever niche they found themselves in, and Dipper’s obvious delight in what he’d had to say only served to solidify that feeling. His overanalyzing, English teacher rambling had made him happy.

Subconsciously, he mirrored him as he licked at his lips, tilting his head down as he fiddled with his fork. “Well… they’re really, very good,” he replied, then took a deep breath before his gaze roved over him. “Though I’ve gotta say… you don’t look anything like I pictured.”

He laughed. “I’m cuter, I know. It’s a curse.”

“It’s true. Much better than the balding, Stephen King-type I imagined,” he admitted, spearing a meatball with his fork.

Dipper lifted his hat, tipping it towards him and showing off his thick curls. “No chance of that, luckily. But, seriously, don’t let your sophomore honors students know about this one. I can get sued for breach of contract, blahblahblah.”

Wirt made a zipping motion across his lips. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Mimicking the move, Dipper grinned. “Now there’s something I haven’t done since I was a kid.”

“I blame nosy little brothers and the fact that I’m surrounded by kids every day.” Wirt defended, lifting his fork as if it helped to prove his point.

“Speaking of nosy little brothers, I’m seriously tempted to sign a book for him since he got you into the series.”

“Oh my gosh, he would love that. You’re pretty much his favorite author.” He laughed, just imagining the look on Greg’s face, then shook his head. “But don’t risk getting sued just for that. He’s a curious guy, he’d demand to know all the answers behind where it came from.”

“Aw. See, now that’s a kid after my heart. I’ll totally sign something for him. I do it all the time. Promotional things, limited numbers of advanced copies sold - that kind of thing. I don’t know. Tell him you got it off ebay or something, but I’ll bring a book over next time. I’ve got extra copies.”

Wirt had to grin, well-aware of how much it would mean to his brother. “He’s not going to believe me, but I’ll do my best. If you see him snooping around here ever, you’ll know why. Speaking of next time, when- uh… when would you want to, you know, do this again? I’m pretty flexible as far as dinners go, so…” He shrugged, scraping at the last of his spaghetti with the side of his fork. “Whatever works for you.”

“Any day, honestly. My deadline for book four is actually next Friday, but between you and me, I’m not meeting it. A minor character decided he wanted more development, so that’ll throw me by a day. And you’ve discovered that I can’t tell time, so it’s literally whenever.”

Dipper pushed his empty plate aside, fiddling with his napkin. “But, uh, tomorrow I was planning on looking for a new stove since the fire department hauled mine away. You, uh... If you’re not busy, want to help me find one that’s idiot-proof?”

“Oh- um- yeah. Yeah, sure.” Wirt nodded a little too quickly, clasping his hands in his lap. “I’d be happy to. Not that- not that I think you’re an idiot or anything, just you’re right, you need a new stove. That’s something- something you definitely need. Especially if I give you homework. You’d need a stove for that.”

“Homework? Seriously?” His grin flashed. “You really are a teacher.”

Wirt returned the smile. “Hey, you knew that going into these cooking lessons. Homework is always a potential threat with teachers. But don’t worry, I’m pretty sure you can handle it.”

“You say that now, but if anything goes wrong, I’m breaking your door down and you can tell Grunkle Stan why it’s not my fault the fire alarms are going off again.” Dipper rose, gathering his dishes and empty can. “Come on. I’ll help you with dishes and let you get back to grading.”

Wirt followed suit, ready to tell him that he didn’t have to, but unwilling to cut the evening short by his own doing. Dipper Pines was a much more fascinating subject than his students gave him credit for, whatever little crush he harbored for him notwithstanding. Much more preferable than a serial killer. So he held his tongue against the polite protest and let him help him with his dishes.

“What time were you thinking of shopping for your stove?” he asked just before they finished. “Or, I guess since you can’t tell time, were you leaning more towards morning or afternoon?”

“Was thinking around noon. You know, grab lunch while I’m out?” Grab lunch together if Wirt agreed. Like a date. Trying to be casual, Dipper dried the last plate and set it in the rack before shimmying off his counter. “So if I’m not over by, like, one or whenever you’re hungry, just come bang on my door.”

Wirt reached out to him for the towel to dry his hands with. “Okay. Sounds good. Oh, and um… I know you’ve had problems with your microwave before, but uh… you can take the leftovers, if you want them.” He slid the still warm tupperware container holding what remained of their spaghetti along the counter towards him. “Just put it on a plate or in a bowl that isn’t made of metal for a minute and it should be fine.”

“That my first homework assignment, teach? Successfully heat up leftovers?”

“Oh my gosh. Don’t call me ‘teach.’ No one calls me ‘teach,’ not even the teenagers.” Wirt broke out into a huge grin nonetheless. “And yes. That is your homework assignment. Feel free to let me know if you have any questions.”

“It’ll likely be at two in the morning since I’m inevitably up then or sometime tomorrow night, so hopefully there’s no deadline.” A minute. He could stand at his microwave for a single minute, sure. Dipper took the container. “Thanks for, y’know, doing this, by the way. I owe you.”

Wirt shrugged, waving it off. “It’s nothing really. I mean, I pretty much make dinner myself every night anyway. And you don’t make that bad of a student. Plus, uh…” He shuffled his feet, suddenly bashful. “The company and conversation’s enough repayment for me. Well, and maybe that signed copy of your book so I can be the coolest, best big brother in the world. That’d be pretty good, too.”

“Well, obviously.” Dipper laughed, walking with him to the front door. His keys were tugged out of his pocket and jingled lightly as he stepped into the hall. “So tomorrow. Anytime between twelve and one.”

“Right. I’ll be ready.” He nodded, holding onto his door with one hand and offering a slight wave with the other. “Good luck with not meeting your deadline.”

“Thankfully, I don’t need much sleep.” He jabbed his key into the locked and pushed his door open, looking back with a grin. “More thankfully, whether that’s a thing or not, there won’t be a fire alarm going off tonight to distract me from work.”

Wirt laughed, his nose wrinkling before he could cover it with his hand. “You sound so certain of that,” he teased.

That adorable nose scrunch, as simple and dumb as it was, had his heart skipping beats. Dipper broke the threshold of his apartment, tossing his keys to the table. He turned back to him, palm on the door. “Well, I don’t really want to get kicked out. And I also really don’t want this whole night to be a waste, so... Yeah. No fire alarms, I promise.”

“Okay. I trust you.” Expression softening, Wirt leaned against the doorframe, his heart beating in time with the man’s across the way. “Me and my beauty sleep - and the rest of the apartment, probably - appreciate that.”

“I’m not gonna speak for the rest of the complex, but... you don’t really need a lot of beauty sleep.” Color filling his cheeks, he took a step back, heading further into his apartment. “‘We should meet in another life, we should meet in air, me and you.’ So, um, g‘night, Wirt.” With that, and before he could embarrass himself further, Dipper closed the door.

Though now alone in the hall, Wirt still lingered a moment, eyes round and lips parted with awe. He thought his heart had fluttered before, but that was nothing compared to what it was doing now. Had the doorframe not been supporting him, he’d surely have swooned, knees betraying him and bringing him right to the ground like a drunken fool. Plath. The quickest way to win his favor…

Wirt inhaled sharply, then pursed his lips while he bolstered himself to slip back inside, gaze still drawn to his neighbor’s door as his thoughts were to the man of mystery who dwelled beyond it. “Goodnight, Dipper,” he murmured to the empty hall and shut the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So skimming found this prompt on tumblr and, well, when I read it, it just had to happen. We headcannon that Dipper's a failure of a cook anyway because he's so easily distracted. So here we go! Join us on this wild AU ride! c:
> 
> Daily uploads this week only!


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t alarms that pulled him out of his writing or even a knock at the door. Half past twelve, it was hunger and, stronger, it was nerves. Dipper was playing at best, the editing not going smoothly thanks to a stupid impulse to basically call his neighbor beautiful and quote poetry at him. He’d barely looked at poetry since college, his strengths in prose, but had that stopped the dumb quote from spilling out?

Nope. Heck no.

He scrawled the signature of his pen name on a blank page in the front of his first book in the series. Even if Wirt was no longer interested in going out that day, he did need a stove and he still wanted to give him the book for his brother.

A dark blue windbreaker was yanked on in deference to the November chill outside rather than his normal flannel, his faded ball cap with a pine tree emblazoned on the front tugged snugly over his curls.

Sighing, he glared at his reflection in the mirror attached to his dresser before walking out of his bedroom. He grabbed his keys and pulled open the front door only to stumble quickly back to avoid getting knocked in the face by Wirt.

“Oh- sorry, I was-” Startled, the teacher’s hands flailed a bit before he dropped them to his sides, his face already flushed a light pink. “Hi.”

“Hey. Wow. Hi.” His cheeks puffed, then he blew out an audible breath. “Okay. That’s- Timing, wow. Here.” He thrust the book at him. “As promised.”

Wirt nearly jerked back in surprise, but was quick to take it, his fingers curling around the book in a tight grip. “Right. Thank you. Um. I’ll just- I’ll just put this in my apartment first and then we can head out. If you’re ready. Which you obviously are or you wouldn’t be leaving, right. Um. Hang on. I’ll just be- one second.”

Fumbling with fishing his keys out of his coat pocket, he hurried to his door and unlocked it. He didn’t go much farther than poking his head inside, pausing to open to the front of the book first. His heart thudded painfully at the sight of his scrawl, heat creeping up his neck as his gaze traced the black ink. Beneath the lines of _Alex Hirsch_ were two simple words. _Stay curious._ Wirt swallowed and gently closed it as he set it on the table just inside, then locked up again.

“Okay, sorry about that.” He shoved both keys and his hands into his pockets as he turned to face him, still completely unprepared for how unsteady the ground seemed beneath his feet at the sight of him.

“That’s okay. I think my heart’s basically back to normal.” But not quite since Wirt was still adorable and still wanted to go out with him. At least as friends, and that was fine. That worked. Should he mention what he’d said or leave it for Wirt to bring up? Did it matter? Had he even recognized the quote?

Okay, no, his heart was definitely not back to its normal rhythm, but his grin flashed because he didn't want to make this awful and awkward. “Sorry about running late. I didn’t actually forget or anything, just couldn’t find my jacket, and at least it’s not one yet so not that bad.” Plus, he had needed a few minutes to get his head in gear. “So food first? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, me too. And don’t be. Sorry, that is. You said anytime between twelve and one and that’s now, so… you’re right on time in my book.” Wirt bounced on the balls of his feet, nervous energy needing some kind of outlet as he kept his hands buried in his pockets and scanned Dipper for some kind of sign. A signal. Anything to assure him that he wasn’t crazy and hadn’t imagined him calling him beautiful and reciting a line from a Sylvia Plath poem because he knew he was a poetry guy.

Oh god, he’d laid awake for far too long last night turning those words around and around. The last lingering look before he closed the door. The color that stained his cheeks. He hadn’t made all that up, had he? Fantasies born of a desperate man’s hopes that his fledgling feelings were returned. No, he knew if he were to dip into the realm of fantasy, he could come up with something more elaborate and even more pitiful on his part. They hardly knew each other.

But then again, that was the point of dating, wasn’t it? Wirt couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a date- no, that was a lie. Of course he did. The point was it had been a long time. Long enough that he didn’t quite know how to proceed if the cute writer in front of him had actually been flirting with him last night.

Wirt blew out a steadying breath. He’d just play it by ear. See how the day progressed, watch for clues, decide what to do from there. He offered Dipper a stronger smile, then nodded down the hall. “Shall we then?”

“Yeah.” Dipper tugged at his sleeve to get him moving, then, embarrassed by the urge to latch onto his hand, tucked his into the pockets of his jacket. “So anywhere in particular you want to hit for lunch?”

“Somewhere that’s serving warm food,” Wirt chuckled, glancing down at their feet as he kept close to him, their arms brushing. “I’m good with anything really. You’re the take-out expert here, any places you’ve grown fond of in particular?”

“Take-out's different from sit-down, but, yeah, I know a few good places. There’s a twenty-four hour diner with wifi I’ve spent my fair share of time in. It's been around since I was a kid. Not too far and good food, nice service. Stairs or elevator?”

“Stairs. Going down’s not so bad as going up.” Wirt shrugged, his gaze rising to eye the way Dipper’s wrist disappeared into his pocket. “I think I know which diner you’re talking about and that sounds good to me.”

“Okay, cool.” Dipper flicked his gaze to the side, angling up to study his profile. He’d always had a thing for taller guys, and he felt his heart skip out of rhythm once again. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed when going down the stairs required more space between them to trot down safely, vaguely wishing he hadn’t asked at all but had simply guided him towards the elevators so as not to lose proximity.

And if that wasn’t pathetic and juvenile, he didn’t know what was. They weren’t even dating. Ugh.

****

\----

****

Dipper had driven, his SUV more likely to fit a stove than Wirt’s old hatchback, though he wasn’t entirely sure if he wasn’t just going to pay for delivery and install. Lugging an oven up three flights of stairs, while not impossible, wasn't appealing.

As they pulled up to the log cabin-styled diner, Dipper looked up with a fond smile. There were a lot of memories wrapped up in this place. Normally, he would have just walked the three blocks to the old diner, it’s neon sign reduced to hopeful flickers.

Inside fared better, the white linoleum old but sparkling and the walls littered with lumberjack memorabilia. It didn’t fit the city in the slightest, which was a large part of why Dipper loved it so much. It was absolutely something better suited to some small, backwater town. Right down to the head waitress with her lazy eye and gray beehive hairstyle.

She greeted him by name and regarded Wirt with only the vaguest of recognition, but seated them quickly and gathered their drink orders. “Thanks, Susan.”

Greasy’s Diner lived up to its name only depending on the dish you ordered, and Dipper planned to play it safe with a turkey club and fries, of course. Couldn’t say no to grease entirely. He relaxed against the booth cushions, content to sit across from Wirt. When he’d dated as a teenager, he’d been fond of how narrow restaurants made their tables. Their efforts to cram as many seats and, therefore, people in as possible certainly worked in favorite of hand-holding and teasing games of footsie.

Not that this was a date, he reminded himself quickly, toying with the napkin his silverware was wrapped in, but he liked knowing that the nearness remained. “So I looked it up this morning and there are, like, six appliance stores around here. Which is ridiculously excessive, so I figure we just hit the nearest one and see what we see. It can’t be _that_ hard to pick out a stove.”

“Probably not for what you plan to use it for. I imagine it might be more difficult for more experienced chefs to pick something, but I bet we can find what you need.”

Wirt smiled at him over the menu, flicked his gaze back down to double check what he was having - a BLT and whatever creamy soup of the day they had - then back up to Dipper as he closed it and set it down flat on the tabletop. As he did, he went to cross his ankles, accidentally bumping the other man’s foot in the process. His face warmed and he pressed his lips together as he shifted to give Dipper enough space.

“Sorry. Long legs kinda- kinda get in the way.” Wow, that sounded dumb. He shouldn’t have even said anything.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Dipper chuckled, bumping his foot to Wirt’s in playful retaliation. “Nothing wrong with long legs.”

His shoulders slumped as he relaxed, huffing out a small laugh. “Yeah, well, you might not feel that way if I stretched them out and took up the entirety of our shared under-the-table space.”

Unrolling his napkin, Dipper shrugged. If he did, their legs would end up touching and he had no qualms about that. He’d always liked long legs and pretty faces, and the very sweet English teacher across from him had both. “I’d mind a lot less than you think.”

He glanced up when Susan returned with their drinks and tossed out his order, offering Wirt a smile before his lips closed around his soda straw.

It took Wirt a minute to babble his order to Susan, mentally deconstructing Dipper’s reply and smile. Okay, so he was flirting with him still. That was definitely flirting. Maybe. He folded his arms on the table, leaning his weight on them as he sipped his iced tea, gaze curious. Coupled with what he’d said the night before, was it safe to assume this was a date? No, no, he’d asked him to join him before he’d said anything remotely… romantic in nature. Poetry was romantic, there was just no way around that. The fact that Dipper knew some off the top of his head only served to further encourage the butterflies in his stomach.

But even though he was still conveying his interest, it wasn’t nearly at the same level. He was the one waiting. Wirt’s eyes lit up with the realization. Dipper was waiting for his sign. Oh wow, how was he even an adult? He really was acting like one of his students. Tip-toeing around a topic that they were both definitely mature enough to handle, of course.

Though, just because he was mature enough to handle this didn’t mean that he had any clue how to proceed. He wasn’t _good_ at dating. He spent too much time thinking and questioning instead of acting. Like right now.

Wirt let the straw fall from his lips as he straightened up some, slowly stretching one leg, ankle skimming Dipper’s before stopping completely, maintaining the light contact. He glanced down at the ice bobbing in his drink, hesitant to look at him as he attempted this… whatever this was.

Dipper’s breath caught, glance brief when he looked up. Okay. He hadn’t really been expecting Wirt to follow through, even on that small of a level. Had he really meant to, though? That was an important question that needed answering. Instead of simply asking, Dipper continued their odd game. Chewing on the end of his straw, he carefully shifted his leg, letting his ankle rub lightly against Wirt’s shin.

It was Wirt’s turn to inhale slowly, blush blossoming across his cheeks. “‘Then jet the blue tent topple, stars rain down, and god or void appall us till we drown in our own tears: today we start to pay the piper with each breath, yet love knows not of death nor calculus above the simple sum of heart plus heart,’” he murmured, gaze lifting from his drink to find Dipper’s, gauging his reaction before jumping ship and backtracking or playing it off like the silly musings of a man too enamored with poetry.

Dipper's smile was slow, but bright. “I don't know about you, but, um, it's been a long time since I last went on a date. This wasn’t particularly supposed to be one when I asked you, but I’m not gonna lie and say I didn’t kind of want it to be.” He laid his hand on the table, palm up, and waited for Wirt to take hold, hoping he wasn't misunderstanding. But more Plath surely meant something, and that pretty blush and shy look had his heart fluttering with hope. “I’d still really like it to be one. If that’s okay with you.”

Despite his hunch, despite feeling fairly certain in regards to Dipper’s interest, Wirt’s heart still simultaneously swelled and stopped. His gaze darted between his hand and the promising smile stretched across his neighbor’s lips, then fumbled to unfold his arms to respond to the unspoken request first. His words were still locked tight in his throat, trapped by his heart as it leapt into it, but he could take his hand.

Fingertips brushed the top of Dipper’s palm just under his fingers, touch light and lingering as Wirt took a steadying breath. He relaxed until his arm was not so rigid, hand easing into the one offered to him completely. He didn’t grip him, but his fingers still curled around the edge of his palm, marvelling at how it seemed both cool from the November chill and warm from the heat filtering through the diner.

“It’s okay with me.” Wirt’s eyes found his face again just as his voice found the ability to speak. “I wasn’t really sure what this was, I mean, it’s been a while for me, too, but yeah. It’s- it’s okay with me. I’d like it if it was.”

“Well, my flirting style isn't exactly the best. I was worse in high school. I can actually hold a conversation without mumbling and running into things. That's progress.” Dipper looked at their hands, nudging his foot under the table again. “Sorry it's weird. Lunch part's normal, but who takes a guy to get a stove on the first date?”

“Considering that we technically, officially met because you kept trying to burn down where we live, it kinda fits.” Wirt shrugged, smile growing as he tapped back with the side of his shoe. “I don’t mind. Plus, don’t they say to try to make the first date interesting and casual? Buying a stove seems like it ticks both.”

“We'll see.” Dating. Wow. Wow and quite a bit of nervous yay. He hadn't exactly missed dating, the games involved oftentimes more stressful than the payoff warranted. But there were things - little things like holding hands and sharing smiles - that he'd missed. And kissing. He was a very big fan of kissing and very curious about kissing Wirt. Would he be sweet and shy? Or sassy and nippy? He'd be very fine with either.

Though he really needed to stop thinking about Wirt’s mouth when they hadn’t gone through the ordeal shopping was sure to be. “When I inevitably annoy you, just shut me up.”

“Inevitably, huh?” That mouth tipped into a sideways sort of smile, whatever hesitance that had been clouding Wirt’s eyes giving way to obvious delight. There was something about Dipper that made it almost easy to roll with things, be himself. It was that same difference he’d felt when he cooked with him. There were no expectations. Just two guys enjoying each others’ company and interested in seeing where it led. It was refreshing. It held the usual, ever-hovering, first date anxieties at bay for the most part. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll see what I can do.”

****

\----

****

Dipper tried to behave himself, really. Kept his hands in his pockets, walked down aisles like a sane, normal person was supposed to, kept quiet and didn’t ooh and aah at every shiny thing he came across. Appliance shopping was boring and mundane. It was not different and interesting.

Except it was and after Wirt deemed the first store “outrageous,” Dipper couldn’t quite keep his energy in check. At the second store, they were barely down the first aisle before Dipper was grabbing Wirt’s hand and pulling him along, lacing their fingers together in a move as natural as breathing.

Behaving was replaced with babbled, rapid questions - “Wirt, what the heck is a broiler? Wirt, this microwave has a gazillion buttons. Who would buy stainless steel on purpose? The fingerprints, man. Wirt, what’s that gigantic- it’s like a blender and three billion other things. Why?”

Near the stoves, he finally slowed some. “Why are there so many different kinds?”

Grinning, absolutely intrigued and happily resigned to being swept up in Dipper’s whirlwind, Wirt shrugged. “Well, there are a lot of different kinds of cooks. I guess some like their appliances to seem more like spaceships than others.” He was gentle in swinging their arms together, testing the weight and feel of it and found that he liked it. A lot. Unfamiliar, yes, but Dipper was definitely well on his way to making it very familiar with how often he took his hand.

“All of this stuff is spaceships.” Dipper grinned at him, his childish delight as bright and shiny as the appliances around them. “So come on, captain, let’s pick a vessel to explore the stars.”

Wirt laughed, amusement emanating from him in waves as he lifted his free hand into a salute. “We’ll need her to be sturdy, admiral- admiral? That’s a thing for space ranks, right? I mean, they’re space _ships_ , after all, so it kinda goes.”

“If you follow _Star Trek_ , then yeah.” Dipper wanted to kiss him for playing along, for being amused by him and not annoyed. He settled for lifting their joined hands and brushing his lips over Wirt’s knuckles. “You’re the best.” Giving his hand a squeeze, he tugged him along. “So I’m thinking probably something like yours. I can work yours. At least so far.”

“I- uh… I think successfully pre-heating the oven and boiling a pot of water counts as being able to work it. And you know, if the rest of these cooking lessons fail, at least you can find a way to live off that.”

Wirt glanced between their hands and Dipper’s lips several times, his own lower lip caught between his teeth. Well, if that hadn’t made his heart stumble all over itself in an attempt to keep pumping. Poetry and kissing his hand - this guy already had the most effective way to court him in the bag. He squeezed his hand back. He could only hope that he’d be able to keep up, discover what gestures ticked Dipper’s boxes.

Shifting his gaze to the stoves and actually be useful in their search, Wirt scanned the different labels gleaming off stainless steel or embossed on matte white and black before giving Dipper’s hand a tug, taking the lead in a new direction. “Here. This is the brand, so it should be one of these over here.”

“Okay. I’m thinking black. Mabel’d be upset if the colors she so carefully coordinated got screwed up.” He shrugged. “Maybe you should’ve actually come into my kitchen to see. It only semi smells like smoke at this point.”

“Maybe. Are all your appliances by the same brand, too? Or was she more focused on color?” Wirt looked over the first black oven they came across, a little more high-end than his own and made a face at the price. The extra burner on the range wasn’t worth that much, was it?

“Um?”

Wirt glanced back at him. “You have no idea. Right. Well, I guess it’s not that big of a deal as long as it looks like it belongs in your kitchen.”

Unashamed, Dipper shrugged. His lack of knowledge wasn't a secret from the guy teaching him to cook. “Yeah.” He trailed a finger along a glassy surface, tracing a burner's outline. “There's gotta be an appliances for dummies book, you think?”

“There must be. We can stop by the bookstore and pick one up on our way home.” He flashed him a teasing sort of smile. “Might not be of much use in picking out the stove, but maybe it’ll help after. Now, let’s see…” Wirt hummed to himself as he searched for a stove that resembled his own, trying to remember exactly what it looked like. “It’s funny how you can see something every day, but when it comes time to picturing it, you can’t grasp all the details.” He reached out to open one, tilting his head as he felt the handle and peered inside. “This seems pretty close, in any case. Looks like it’s gas though. I mean, mine is too, but I’m not sure if that’s the safest option for your kitchen.”

“That I remember. Mabel was pretty clear about not letting me touch anything gas. Something about blowing up the building and probably half the block. And then her digging me out of the rubble so she could kill me a second time.” He grinned, wicked and amused. “She can be very morbid.”

“Clearly.” Wirt’s stomach flip-flopped, fidgeting under gaze as he ran his tongue over his lips. “Well, um… maybe we should move the lessons to your kitchen to avoid incurring her wrath. And dying.”

“Ah. Pretty sure I’m safe with you.” Dipper lifted his gaze from his wetted lips to his eyes. “Am I?”

Breath hitching, Wirt tightened his grip on his hand as his eyes rounded. While he recognized that he was teasing, flirting, something of the like, he couldn’t shake off the sense that this went a little deeper than that. Not much, not yet, but enough that his heart quivered and the urge to prove that he was flared.

“I’d like to think so.” His voice lowered as he maintained his gaze, taking his turn to lift their joined hands to press his lips to the back of Dipper’s, taking a risk. “I’m pretty protective of what’s important to me. And in any case, I am CPR and first aid certified, being a teacher and all, so should anything happen, I’d take care of you.”

 _Wow_. Dipper dragged his teeth along his lower lip. He’d been single way too long if a low voice - _important to him!_ \- and a kiss to his hand were making his stomach churn. Not to mention the rhythmically challenged way his heart was thumping. “Okay, that’s... good to know. Yeah.”

“Okay.” The reaction did a lot to bolster Wirt’s confidence. Being out of the dating pool for two years hadn’t stripped him completely of the ability to be… enticing, he supposed, was what he was going for. The corners of his mouth quirked up and he let their hands fall between them. “So, electric.”

“I’ll say,” he muttered and immediately clapped his free hand to his mouth, color flooding his cheeks. _Crap, god, why._ “Electric stove oven thing. Right. Mmhm.”

Eyes lighting up, Wirt flashed him a delighted, knowing grin. “Did you think I was referring to something other than a stove oven thing?”

“Oh my god. You’re literally the best worst thing.” And Dipper never would’ve pegged him for that, had never expected mischief in his routined, sweater-wearing neighbor. He itched to find more of him, to delve into his mind like he would a character and find out what else was hiding under all that sweet shyness.

While still blushing - one thing he absolutely wished he’d grown out of - he dropped his hand to grin at him. “Cute jerk.”

Wirt stuck his tongue out at him, chuckling as he dragged him to an electric stove. “Come on, admiral. Let’s see if this vessel suits our needs.”

“Aye-aye, captain.” Dipper laughed, letting himself be the one dragged just this once.

Seconds later he hummed, head tilting to the side. “Yeah, this one works, actually. It’s almost exactly like yours except, y’know, not gas. And the timer and oven light buttons are switched. But I guess if anything’s going to be switched, those are the two safest ones.”

Wirt nodded, giving it his own twice-over before deeming it suitable. “I think this may be the one then.” He skimmed the tag attached to the stove, tracing the bullet points with his index finger and muttering the details and perks to this particular model to himself, then considered the price. “It’s on sale, too, so that’s a plus. I dunno. We could always check other stores to see if you could get a better deal, but this isn’t bad.”

“Not bad is good enough for me. Think this would fit in the elevator or should I just get somebody else to lug it up the stairs?”

“That depends on how strong you are. I’m letting you know now that I’m not so much.”

He laughed, bumping their shoulders together. “Helpful, thanks. I know I’m strong enough to handle it, but there’s also the huge factor of just not wanting to. I had to deal with lugging up the first one. Mabel wouldn’t even let me _try_ to put it in the elevator because she secretly hates me.”

“Well, I think we could squeeze it into the elevator. We might not be able to fit with it though, but in that case we could send it up on it’s own and run up the stairs to meet it. Or one of us already be up there to slide it out because that seems a lot smarter and less likely to fail.” Wirt shrugged, then waved his free arm in the air. “Even though I’m not strong, I’ll still help you get it up there. I’m not so sadistic that I’d just stand by and let you do it alone.”

“And you continue to be my favorite person.” Dipper cocked his head to the side again, this time his hat brushing against Wirt’s shoulder. “I’ll snag a dolly from Soos - the complex’s handyman? You take the elevator up, I’ll push this thing in there and then head up the stairs. Or we do the other way around. I don’t care.”

“Sounds like a plan. And good timing, too, because I think one of the vultures have realized that beneath your faded baseball cap, you’re actually serious about making a purchase.” Wirt leaned into him a bit, keeping his voice quiet. “He’s not-so-subtly weaving his way towards us, he can smell his commission filling his bank account.”

“They circle their prey, a hungry volt, and yet each hopes to swoop in first. Each hopes to be the first to notice, to swoop down, to feast. They watch and wait, beady eyes darting. Who will linger? Who will perish, wallets open wide?

“And here we stand, lingering too long, too still. Certain in our decision and waiting for the vulture’s beak to part. ‘You need any help today?’”

Dipper straightened when the salesman drew near enough to ask exactly the question Dipper had expected, and he threw Wirt a satisfied grin before nodding.

They were in his car twenty minutes later, the oven in the trunk and music thrumming low. “You know, I wasn’t actually expecting him to get me another fifty off the sale price. I always forget how much fun haggling is.”

“For you maybe. I’m terrible at it,” Wirt chuckled. “Salespeople have a nasty habit of walking all over me. I know I’ve put several of their children through college at this point.”

“Well, fifty’s only - what? - the first ten pages of a college textbook? No one reads the first ten pages, it’s fine.” He tapped his fingers on the wheel to the beat, amused. “But I learned the ways of arguing money from Grunkle Stan. I swear the man’s never paid full price for a single thing in his life.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Tilting his head against the headrest, Wirt angled his face towards him to watch his fingers, then casually admired his profile. “You were great though. Maybe you can give me some tips so I don’t wind up broke one day. A teacher’s salary only goes so far,” he sighed, a tad on the dramatic side.

“The main thing to remember is that they need you more than you need them.” Dipper glanced his way, grin flashing before his attention went back to the road. “How else will their children get to college? Also, everything’s on sale and every sale can be better.”

Wirt laughed, entirely too pleased by this man. “Good to know that even in paranormal mysteries it’s possible to write from experience. I’ll enjoy attempting to convince my students that next time we read something spooky. At least they don’t walk all over me, though they like to think they can.”

“But you’re so mild-mannered. Such a pushover. No sass anywhere, nope.”

“It’s secret sass, Dipper, remember? I want them to _think_ I’m a pushover when everything that happens in my class goes all according to my grand master plan.”

“Now you sound like an evil genius.” He reached over, patting Wirt’s knee. “I like it.”

Wirt caught his gaze for a flicker of a second, eyebrows waggling as he grinned. “One must do what they can in order to create a world ripe with literate minions. In my perfect world it will not be ice or fire that ends it, but literary devices of doom.”

“Sharpen your wits, children, and prepare your headcanons. There's ignorance afoot.” Dipper left his hand on Wirt's knee, content with the contact as they drew closer to the complex and closer to the end of their date. It had been a good one as far as Dipper was concerned. Pretty successful, actually. Wirt had been amused by him and his ridiculousness in the store rather than annoyed. It was its own little miracle and relieved him more than he could say. His excitable curiosity had put off more than one person in his dating life, and he wasn't keen on putting this one off.

This one with his shyness, his sweetness, his willingness to help a virtual stranger who'd done nothing but lose him sleep. The handsome face, made unbearably adorable each and every time his nose scrunched and that breathless laughter spilled out. It made him want to keep Wirt laughing, and it had been - god, had it really been over a year since he'd last been on a date? Over a year since he'd been, or had at least tried to be, invested in someone else?

Easy silence stretched between them, both thinking of the other as music played unobtrusively between them. There wasn't a need to fill it with words and no real need to. It had been so much longer than a year since he'd felt that with someone who wasn't family.

As he pulled into his parking spot and shut off the car, he smiled at him. “You know, Wirt Palmer, you're really something else.”

The answering smile faltered as he blinked, honest surprise rippling over his features before uncertainty took its place. “What- uh… what do you mean?” he broached, brow furrowing as he thought back to anything in particular he’d said or did before the pleasant lull in conversation.

“It's not a bad thing. But I'd see you leaving in the mornings where I'd stayed up too late rushing to your car and I'd make up things. Places you were going, reasons you were going there. I thought teacher a lot, but then it’s what are you teaching? Do you like it? Are you one of those teachers who stands in front of class and just drones on and on or are you one of the good ones who listens and pays attention as much as he lectures?

“I do that a lot, I guess. Just watch people and make up their lives. It’s not often that I actually take a chance and talk to one of them. It’s not like I did this time either. You came up to me, and you ended up being a million times more interesting than I pegged you for. That happens less often than me talking to people, so... You’re something else. I like that. I like you.”

“Oh,” Wirt breathed, furrow fading fast as his heart stuttered out of rhythm and his cheeks filled with color. “I- I like you, too.”

The words were out before he could give them a second thought, but as he ducked his head he realized that even if he’d been given that chance his response would’ve stayed the same. Tentative and determined simultaneously, he echoed Dipper’s earlier touch to his knee, gaze lifting from the point of contact to meet his. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he was struck by the honesty he found there.

“You’re-” Wirt started, lips staying parted for a moment as he sought the right words to say. “You’re nothing like I expected. I mean, you were this enigma. This mysterious neighbor who kept to himself yet kept me awake all hours of the night and I never intended to actually confront you- I don’t do that, I’m not a confrontational person, but I saw you standing there the other night and I couldn’t…

“I couldn’t stay away from you, as irritable and groggy as I was. Something just drew me to you. It’s probably the same thing drawing me to you now and it makes me feel… safe. I guess. I don’t know, I feel safe with you. It makes it hard not to like you, too. Impossible, really.” Wirt glanced away a moment, only to look back seconds later. “To think you actually thought I was interesting when I didn’t think I stood out at all. I find it a little hard to believe. If it came from anyone other than you I don’t think I would, but, like I said, you’re different. And I like you. And I’d like to get to know you better.”

“Yeah?” Dipper shifted in his seat, laughter pleased. “Okay. Good. I'm definitely interested in learning more about you. So, um.” He laughed again, this time at himself. “God, I'm lame. I want to say tomorrow, but my phone's been buzzing like crazy and I know it's my agent demanding to know why I need a day extension. So I need to get some work done. So... Wednesday?”

“Yeah,” Wirt huffed out a laugh of his own. “Yeah, Wednesday sounds good. I should be done grading the next flood of essays by then.”

“Cool. Good. Great. I sound like an idiot.” Dipper pushed his hat back, grin turning sheepish. “So let's get to it, captain.”

****

\----

****

Something woke him up.

Wirt opened his eyes and listened. Normally a fairly deep sleeper, over the past two months he’d grown accustomed to sudden sounds spurring him from his bed and out into the parking lot, to the point where someone dropping something on the floor above him would startle him into waking. When the bleating of smoke detectors and the wail of sirens failed to greet his ears, he deduced that was all it was. Someone dropping something upstairs or in the hall.

He sighed, shifting against his mattress as he rolled from one side to the other and reached for the nightstand in the dark. His fingers found his phone and lit up the display. A little after two in the morning. Wirt didn’t know if he was pleased to find that he still had around four hours of sleep left or he was disappointed that the day wasn’t sooner. It was Monday- well, technically Tuesday, and it seemed that Wednesday just couldn’t arrive fast enough. He’d already spent too many hours combing the internet and pestering his mom for recipes for their next cooking lesson, uncertain as to whether their Wednesday get-together would include that or end up more like Saturday’s outing. Date. These were dates now.

Boy, if that didn’t inspire butterflies in his belly, he didn’t know what would. Of course, now he was in the same predicament he’d been in when he’d tried to fall asleep earlier in the night. Even when Dipper wasn’t keeping him from sleeping, he was keeping him from sleeping, his mind conjuring images of him, analyzing the smallest of gestures, replaying moments already lived in a constant stream. He was pretty much smitten and they’d only been on one date. That never happened. Even his students had picked up on his… he’d hate to call it this so early on, but it was the most fitting for his situation. Lovesickness. Already prone to daydreams and easily distractible, thoughts of his neighbor across the hall had only made these slips into his head more likely to occur. It didn’t help that every time he was jarred from these musings, he was left flustered, painted by a flush that all of his classes found equally delightful.

Wirt rubbed his hand over his face, able to feel how warm it was from a mixture of mortification and Dipper’s existence, and closed his eyes, hoping to cut off this reminiscing at the bud so he could get some more sleep. Two hours was not going to cut it if he had to put up with more: “Oooh, Mr. Palmer, are you in looooooove?” for five periods.

 _Knock-knock-knock_.

That was it. His brow furrowed, eyes opening as he lifted his head from the pillow. That was the sound that woke him in the first place. Or something like it. On his front door. Wirt waited to hear it again, then pushed off the covers and slid out of bed. He debated grabbing the baseball bat his little brother had given him to “fend off intruders” from the closet, but figured that any intruders probably wouldn’t bother with knocking loud enough to not only alert him to their presence, but quite possibly his neighbors as well.

He shuffled into his slippers, uncertain if they matched in the dark and caring little. He flipped on the living room light, squinting against the blinding brightness as he padded to the front door and attempted to look through the peephole in the wood. Even with his vision bleary and spotted with pinpricks of color, he made out the blue and white of a baseball cap with ease.

Wirt opened the door. “Dipper?” His voice came out a little raspy and a lot confused as he blinked at the man in front of him. The man in his pine tree emblazoned cap and… boxers. Well. “You put on a hat, but not pants…” At two in the morning.

“I was already wearing the hat, and pants would've taken too long and this is taking too long. And I'm really sorry, but there are, like, a million buttons on my microwave and I didn't think to put on my glasses so I'm pretty sure I hit a picture and not the minute thing or whatever I need to hit for a minute. And I'm really sorry, again, still. I just need your help. Will you help me? There's definitely smoke in my microwave.”

“Um-” Wirt scrubbed at his eyes, as if rubbing the sleep from them would clear his head as well. Smoke in the microwave. Right, that wasn’t good. “Yeah- yeah, of course.”

Only in a set of pale blue pajamas and- yes, mismatched slippers, he stepped into the hall and closed his door behind him to follow Dipper into his apartment. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Dipper saw him in his pajamas, and he was still more covered than his neighbor, gaze subtly roving over the expanse of his bare back. Plus, if this got out of hand and warranted another call to the fire department, well… neither of them wanted that. Now more than ever.

His nose wrinkled as he caught the smell of smoke immediately. “What were you making?”

“Uh. You know. I was just... heating something up.” Dipper led his neighbor to the appliance in question, gesturing at it helplessly. He'd unplugged it after very quickly disabling his own fire alarms. Smoke blocked the glass, leaking unsteadily from the cracks. “I don't- Can we just push it out the window?”

Wirt dragged his gaze from the smoldering appliance to stare at him for a beat. “No. No, we’re not pushing it out the window.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “Did you take the food out?” he asked, hesitant to open the door and let more smoke into the apartment to see for himself.

“Um. No. There was actual fire, so... Yeah. I left it shut. And I think the fire’s gone, but the last time I just let smoke waft out my window someone called 9-1-1 and kind of trying to avoid that.” He rocked back on his heels, lifting his hands in a shrug since he couldn’t jam them in pockets. “So I kind of need help... getting rid of it as discreetly as possible? I guess? If that’s a thing that can be done.”

“Right. Okay.” Wirt shook his head, still trying to clear it while at the same time processing an actual fire in the microwave. “Well, chucking it out the window isn’t discreet at all and will definitely attract someone’s attention, so… let’s just calmly and quietly take it downstairs and wait for the rest of the smoke to air out. You can’t just throw microwaves away, I don’t think, and putting something that’s smoking in the trash will probably attract attention, too. So yeah. We’ll air it out somewhere a little bit away from the building and then bring it back inside once it’s fine and we can look up ways to take care of appliances that have been on fire without calling the fire department.”

“Right. Yeah. Okay.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, looking from Wirt to the microwave and back. Having a plan helped settle his heartrate, so he managed a smile. “Thanks. I’m sorry I woke you up. School night and all. Just kind of panicked.”

Wirt waved it aside, gingerly hefting up the charred appliance. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not the first time you’ve woken me up on a school night.” Chin tucking it into place against his chest, he glanced over at him, all bare shoulders and chest and legs and gave him a small smile of his own. “Though I have to say, probably prefer this way to a fire alarm.”

“Well... mmhm.” He rubbed the back of his neck, grin crooked. “I’ll help you carry that, but if we’re going outside, I should probably locate pants.”

“Mm…” Wirt couldn’t help glancing down, his bared legs hard to ignore given that the season called for long pants and… well, seeing someone you were pretty much dating in their boxers was a fairly intimate thing. For him, anyway. It didn’t help that Dipper had pretty nice legs. He cleared his throat. “Well, uh, it will be cold outside, so… I would. Probably. Yeah.”

Dipper ran his tongue over his teeth, the low tug of unabashed lust almost unfamiliar after a dry spell that was well over two years long. What was it about this man - hair sticking up every which way, mismatched slippers, and ridiculous pajamas - that brought on a desire his last boyfriend hadn’t managed after two months? They’d had two conversations, a cooking lesson, and a date. They hadn’t even kissed, but he wanted those long-fingered hands all over him.

How was this happening?

Thank god this was happening. He was twenty-six, not dead.

He cleared his throat, taking a step back. “I’ll, uh, meet you in the hall. Ten seconds,” he promised and was gone.

Wirt barely had time to blink before he vanished, willing the heat that pooled in both his cheeks and his gut at the look he’d given him far, far away. They’d had one date. They hadn’t even kissed yet. There was a time and place for thoughts and desires like that - though really, it had been a long time for him as well, but that didn’t mean he was going to become unhinged just like that. He wanted to savor this. If there was a relationship with Dipper in his future, he wanted to take his time with it. Yes.

Blowing out a shaky breath, Wirt adjusted his hold on the microwave and carried it to Dipper’s front door, relieved that the November chill would help to cool some of this gentle burn still simmering inside him.

In about fifty more seconds than promised, Dipper met him. He’d thrown on flannel pajama pants and, since he didn’t actually have a shirt that matched, had shrugged on his windbreaker. He shoved open the door and eased the microwave out of Wirt’s grip. “If you want to go grab a jacket or anything, you can. I don’t know how long we’re gonna be out there.”

“Yeah. Probably a good idea.” He let Dipper take it so he could duck into his unlocked apartment, grabbing both a jacket and his keys. Being just across the hall was one thing, being downstairs and outside warranted locking up. After the lock clicked in place, he stuck his keys in the pocket of his jacket and fiddled with the zipper. “You got it?” Wirt asked, hands fluttering as if to help carry it, but being a microwave it wasn’t really a two person job the way the stove had been.

“Yep.” He shrugged, the appliance not altogether heavy. A sousaphone wasn’t the only heavy thing he lifted when he was working through a block, and he had keys to the complex’s basement gym. “Probably shouldn’t take this thing in the elevator, so stairs. Yay.”

“Look on the brightside. When it stops smoking we can probably use the elevator to take it back up.” Wirt grinned, leading the way to the stairs. “Just let me know if you want me to take over.”

“I got it.” He shifted it to the side when he reached the steps so he could at least see them, not keen on taking a header with a still-smoking machine. At least it wasn’t, surprisingly, burning hot. Though that was likely because the fire had smothered itself out when he’d left the door closed, depriving it of oxygen.

“Again, like, I seriously am sorry about this. I thought I’d hit the right button and stood there for, like, thirty seconds or something before this scene I’ve been arguing with clicked. It’s been wanting to be re-written, but if I change it, it alters a million other things, but it just wasn’t sitting right. So some dialogue clicked and I only meant to go grab my journal to jot it down, but my laptop was open anyway. And, y’know, it all kind of went downhill from there.”

“How long do you think it went for?” Wirt asked, honestly intrigued at how this kept happening to him with even the most simple of appliances.

“Uh.” It took some careful maneuvering and a pause on the steps, but Dipper managed to get a look at his watch. After two. Okay. “An hour. Ish. Give or take. I know I put it in there around twelve-fifteen or so and then my fire alarm started to beep, so it took about half an hour to rip the batteries out of all of them and smother the fire and then get you. So. Yeah. An hour or so. Maybe.”

It was a miracle Wirt didn’t trip down the stairs and fall flat on his face. “An hour,” he repeated as he stared at him, just to be sure he wasn’t hearing things. “Maybe.”

“Yeah, you know. Give or take, like, fifteen minutes or so.” Embarrassed, Dipper returned his attention to going down the stairs safely.

Wirt inhaled deeply, then released it in a long stream of air. “Well. I’ll still give you cooking lessons, but I’m really starting to think it’s safer if I just cook all your food for you. In the mood for a midnight snack, just hop across the hall and I’ll make you a bag of popcorn and send you on your way.” He shook his head, smile nothing but fond as he glanced his way. “Our own version of a romantic, midnight rendezvous.”

“Nothing more romantic than a grumpy, sleep-deprived boyfriend shoving food at you and pushing you right out the door,” he joked.

“Well, I wouldn’t be nearly as sleep-deprived if we started doing that-” Wirt did stumble that time, but caught himself on the next step. Boyfriend. Okay, yeah. That was a word. A word to describe a boy someone was dating. Yeah. So his heart really didn’t need to be skipping about like it was and the swell of pure elation was entirely unnecessary, but it was there just the same. “And, uh…” He had to cough, his voice threatening to crack. “And I wouldn’t actually just… shove food at you. You know. I mean, unless you had writing to get back to and you were just using me for sustenance.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you. I’d bring my laptop with me.” His smile went a little shy as they passed the second floor landing. “So, um, do you mind that I called you my-? I mean, one date doesn’t automatically mean labels. But, I don’t know, we already planned a second one - unless, you know, you wanted to keep the cooking lessons separate from the dating aspect. Even though two of the main elements of most dates - food and alone time with the person you’re interested in - are part of the lessons.

“So I was kind of figuring those were kind of dates because I never understood the mentality of a date being something you had to leave the house to do. Dinner at home can still be a date. And, wow, you are not the only one who babbles. I’m babbling. I should stop. I’m going to stop.”

“I like your babbling. It’s- it’s cute.” Wirt rubbed his neck as his gaze shifted between watching where he was going and Dipper. “And yeah. The cooking lessons can be dates, too. I think that makes sense. We’ll still be getting to know each other and spend time together which is… yeah, what you just said.” He took a moment to run his tongue over his lips, heart still all a-flutter. “I don’t mind. I’d like to be your- your boyfriend. I mean, I’m not the biggest fan of labels usually, but I don’t mind that one. As long as you’d like to be mine, too, that is. My boyfriend.”

“Absolutely, yes. I could totally be yours.” Butterflies exploded in his stomach and he nearly missed a step as the phrasing caught up to him. “Um. I like, you know, exclusivity. I guess labels just kind of help with that. At least mentally. For me. I’m not making sense.”

“No, it makes sense.” Wirt’s hand went to the small of his back as if that would help steady him. “In this case it works. For the exclusivity thing. I just meant I don’t like feeling boxed in, which labels can sometimes do. I don’t know if it’s because I’m surrounded by high schoolers every day so I didn’t really get a chance to get over that, but it’s that feeling. That feeling that you have to be a certain thing and act a certain way because that’s your label. Being a boyfriend- your boyfriend, it’s different. It’s something I want to be. It doesn’t feel… confining.”

“Okay.” Dipper’s smile softened, the hand on his back warm and welcome. “Good to know, thanks. You don’t have to be anything more than yourself to be with me.”

It wasn’t necessarily some mind-blowing thing, and honestly it was something that should’ve been a given for any relationship. But it wasn’t. So it blew Wirt’s mind. While actions may have spoke louder than words, he trusted those of a man whose profession was rooted in words. This man knew the power words could hold, harnessed it for himself and created worlds, spun galaxies threaded from sentences, syntax, and semantics.

“In tender touch, off tremulous tongue, both ink and timbre kindle ardent flames ignited by nightly tendrils of desire,” Wirt murmured, more to himself, not quite realizing Dipper could hear him.

When they hit the first floor, Dipper waited for Wirt to open the door separating the stairs from the lobby. He turned the poetry over in his mind, trying to place it as they made their way towards the front door. “That was really pretty. Whose is it? I don't recognize the line.”

“Huh? Oh.” Pink dusted his cheeks, hardly noticeable in the dim lighting, and he held the front door open for him as well. “I- uh… It’s… it’s mine. I just- I just made it up,” Wirt admitted, attempting to wave it off. “I do that sometimes. Just… you know, mutter poetry under my breath like a weirdo.”

“No way. Poetry guy’s a poet. That’s awesome!” Dipper grinned, stepping outside. “Do you ever write any of it down?”

Dipper’s enthusiasm surprised him some, enough to put his embarrassment aside as he realized that of course he’d be interested. He was a writer. “Yeah. Sometimes. When I’ve got a lot going on in my head and feel like… putting it somewhere. Just little things in notebooks and stuff.”

“Can I read some of it?” He shifted the microwave closer, heading towards the parking lot. That was probably far enough away and they could huddle in the warmth of his car with some music. “It’s okay if you say no. Trust me. I’m the first guy to know that sometimes writing can be private. But I’d like to, really.”

Wirt’s footsteps faltered, freezing on the edge of the parking lot as he blinked dumbly. “What? No way, you’re just saying that to be nice.” He shook his head, then hurried to catch up with him.

“No, I learned a long time ago not to do that. It only leads to misunderstandings and hurt feelings and I don’t have the patience to come up with ingenuine interest. I mean, I don’t even have enough patience to stand at a freaking microwave.”

Dipper shrugged, rounding his car and setting the offending appliance on the asphalt. Relieved to have the weight gone, he stretched. “And I meant it. That line was good. I’d love to see what you can put to a page if that’s something that just spills out casually.”

“Well…” Wirt shoved his hands into his pockets as he watched him, appreciating the curve of his back even through the windbreaker. “If you’re… if you’re really, actually interested, then maybe. I’ll think about it. I mean, no one really reads my things. Not since college and none of the stuff I came up with then was very good. Though isn’t that always the way? In high school you hate what you wrote in middle school, in college you hate what you wrote in high school, and so on and so forth.”

“That's exactly the way. But, really, I'm very interested. Just whenever you're up for it.” He removed his keys from his pocket, offering them with a smile. “Start it up while I get this open?”

“Yeah, sure.” Wirt took them, unlocking the car as he slid over to the passenger side and settled in. Pushing the key into the ignition, he got the heater going and fiddled with the volume of the radio, leaving his seatbelt undone.

Dipper pushed in the button to unlatch the door, only just managing to get out of the smoke's path. Deciding to leave what decidedly no longer resembled food alone, he climbed into the driver's seat. “Some nights to avoid glares, I hide in here.” He hit two buttons - one to lower his seat and the other to slide back the panoramic sunroof. “Just wish the stars were brighter in the city. You know anything about constellations?”

“Some,” he replied, checking around the seat so he could get it to recline as well. “I mean, I’m no expert, but I know a few of the… major ones.” Wirt flashed him a sheepish smile once they were at eye-level as he got the back of the chair to go down.

Well, this suddenly felt much more intimate. He'd never been more relieved by or annoyed with an armrest in his life. Fighting the urge to squirm, Dipper smiled back and lifted his gaze skyward. “Yeah? My mom loves them. She used to point them out to me and Mabel when we were kids, and they kind of stuck.”

Wirt hummed, following suit to watch the night sky alongside him, to try and catch a glimpse of any constellations he could recognize through the light pollution of the city. “Does she have a favorite?”

Dipper slanted him a look, grin wide and eyes full of mischief. “Seriously?”

He blinked. “What? People have favorite constellations. I mean, mine is-” Wirt stopped for a second, realization dawning on his face. “ _Oh_. Your name, right. Wow. I didn’t- didn’t make that connection. So she named you after the dippers? How did Mabel escape that? I mean, there are plenty of options for star names.”

“Well, it started as a nickname. And then when I was eighteen, I went ahead and just legally changed it since my birth name is awful.” He reached out, nudging Wirt’s shoulder. “But now I’ve got to know your favorite.”

Wirt pursed his lips, thankful for the dark as his cheeks warmed. “Pretty sure you’ve got a fifty-fifty chance of figuring it out,” he murmured, then met his gaze. “What do you think my favorite is? Major or minor?”

“Fifty-fifty shot, huh? Not bad odds.” He rolled onto his side, stubbornly deciding that he was allowed to feel intimate around the man who’d agreed to be his boyfriend. “Let’s try major.”

“Now I’m tempted to say minor just to be contradictory.” Wirt wriggled a bit, angling himself towards Dipper with a grin. “I like them both, honestly, but ursa major was always the one I could find no matter what, with the big dipper and all, so it was this… constant, familiar thing, I guess. Plus I like bears. They’re cool.”

Laughing, Dipper laid a hand on the armrest, palm up in a silent request. “That started out really sweet until you ruined it. In the summer, when I take a break from real writing, I put out these short stories online under my real name. If you’re at all interested in my less-than-quality work, you can look them up. I wrote one last summer about a bear with multiple heads - the multi-bear because I’m so witty and clever with names - and how everyone in this forest feared him. But he’s really just this huge geek who loves girly pop songs.”

“Really?” Wirt huffed out a laugh of his own as he lightly traced the lines of his palm before placing his hand in his. “Sounds intriguing. I might have to go find them after this instead of going back to sleep like the responsible adult I am. Do all the heads have the same taste in girly pop songs? I mean, multiple heads also mean multiple brains, yeah? Or does the multi-bear have this hive mind with all of his heads?”

“There’s a dominant head, but they’re all pretty unique. There was this documentary on Greek gods I was watching - don’t judge - and they mentioned Cerberus and it all just kind of came together in my head, so I wrote it down.” Dipper’s fingers curled, lightly rubbing circles into the back of Wirt’s hand.

“Anyway, y’know, you can go. If you want. You’ve got classes to teach in the morning, and I think I’ve got it from here. You helped me keep my head on straight because, well, if you hadn’t opened the door, the microwave was going out the window.”

Wirt shook his head. “Nah. I’m pretty awake now anyway. I’ll stay with you. Keep you company.” After all, he was learning a lot of new things about him and wasn’t willing to pass up that opportunity, he reflected as he squeezed his hand. “So, you like Greek mythology?”

They talked the way best friends did at sleepovers, bouncing from topic to topic at the slightest provocation, both hungry to figure out what made the other tick. Though their hands stayed connected for the majority of the time, Wirt would find himself easing his grip from time to time to trace the verses of his favored poems on the inside of Dipper’s wrist, the light touches comfortable even as his heart beat heavy in their close company with the stars overhead and the glow from the dashboard as their main source of light. The smoke had long since dissipated by the time either of them thought to move, too wrapped up in each other despite the armrest between them. It was only when Wirt’s eyelids became heavy and started to droop, his words losing some of their sense and coherency and his laughter coming more easily that they thought to check on the microwave.

The supposedly microwave-safe bowl had melted and fused to the glass circle. Dipper snorted, the disaster cool enough to touch and get tossed into the nearby dumpster. The microwave itself was as black inside as its exterior. “Okay. I’m probably going on an adventure to chuck this out tomorrow.”

He hefted the appliance, his car locked and keys in his pocket. “Come on, captain, let’s get you back to bed.”

They took the elevator up in companionable silence, the microwave on the floor. Dipper took a chance, pressing against the sleepy teacher’s side and laying his head on his shoulder. He was incredibly thrilled when an arm was wrapped around his waist in a little uncertain stop-and-start bit that had him hiding a smile in Wirt’s coat.

It was pitiful, really, how giddy he was to be in a relationship again. And these stages didn’t feel how past ones had. There was more here than he’d expected, yet somehow less. Less expectation, perhaps, less stress to be on point. He could babble at him, throw questions his way and receive intriguing answers and interesting questions in return. That was incredibly unique, and he was sad to have to go their separate ways.

He set the microwave onto his floor, turning to watch Wirt stab at his lock a few times. It was after four by that point and the poor guy was probably going to be useless to his students the next day, but Dipper really hoped Wirt would think spending time with him had been worth it.

“So I’ve gotta ask,” he started when they were both loitering beyond their thresholds, holding their doors, “since this is the second time I’ve seen you in your pajamas. Do you always wear that much to sleep?”

“What?” Wirt glanced down at himself as if to remind himself of just what it was he was wearing. “What do you mean ‘that much?’ It’s pajamas. People wear pajamas to bed. Don’t you?”

His grin was slow and nothing but wicked. “Nope.” His gaze skimmed the length of his neighbor, eyes half-lidded when they met his again. “Goodnight, Wirt,” he purred and closed his door.

A pulse of longing throbbed in his belly as Wirt stood gaping at the door across the hall for a second time. He wasn’t so tired that he couldn’t react to what Dipper blatantly insinuated. Heat creeping under his skin, not only in his face, Wirt shivered and scrubbed his palm over his cheeks before fumbling to close the door. The low rumble of his voice, the sinful gleam in his eyes and the curve of his lips, and the resurgence of the mental image of him in nothing but his boxers and his cap would haunt him for the rest of the night.

So much for sleeping.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guh. Nerds in love! At least soon. They're working on it c:
> 
> Also, Dipper, put on some pants. God. ~~except you don't have to it's okay~~


	3. Chapter 3

“Alright, alright, that’s enough! I’m calling it. The winners of super ultra vocabulary crossword are Team Alliteration,” Wirt announced, brandishing a green Expo marker in the direction of a group of five students in the middle of the classroom towards the back as they all high-fived each other while the rest of the room groaned collectively. “One homework pass for each of you. Don’t spend it all in one place.” He grinned at them as he passed out the small, orange slips of paper, then frowned as a wadded up ball of paper bounced off his head. “Team Palindrome, this isn’t kindergarten.”

“Says the guy giving out homework passes,” one of them snorted.

Wirt lifted an eyebrow, holding the last of the homework passes just out of reach. “I don’t have to give you guys homework passes, you know, and we don’t have to play super ultra vocabulary crossword either. I could always be more like Ms. Whispers and drone on about ‘The Sun Also Rises’ and the aimlessness of a generation as seen through the eyes of male insecurity and bullfighting.” When the entire classroom broke out into a chorus of complaints, as most of them had her as their freshman English teacher, he laughed and gave away the last homework pass to the rightful winners before striding back to the front of the classroom. “That’s what I thought.

“Now, before I set you ruthless hooligans loose on the rest of the world, let’s go over what you need to have done for tomorrow. Read chapters- yes, Tim, reading is kind of important in an English class. Now shh.” He held up his index finger to the fidgeting, murmuring sophomores.

“You shh,” the room responded.

“That’s it. Detention. All of you.” Wirt put on his most serious face as he pointed at all of them, but it cracked at their collective horrified gasps. “Okay. Stop it. We’ve got two minutes, guys. Let’s just get through this so you can all be out of my hair and we can all go on our merry, Wednesday way. Believe me, I want to be out of here the second that bell rings just as much as you do, so let’s work together. Teamwork. Yes.

“Alright. I want you to read chapters nine, ten, annnnnd… hm… eleven _and_ twelve? Or just eleven? What do you guys think? I’m thinking we go to twelve. You can handle it.”

“But Mr. Palmer, four chapters is so many,” Pamela Humphrey whined, flopping on her desk.

“Too many,” Tim Dreiden agreed.

“Thirteen then. You’ll read chapters nine through thirteen in ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ and find two quotes that really stand out to you to discuss in class tomorrow.” Wirt nodded to himself, trying not to grin as half the class groaned and the other half blamed the complainers for all their problems.

“Four chapters is fine.”

“Twelve’s good. Twelve’s great.”

“Mr. Palmer, have you lost weight? That’s a nice haircut.”

“Mr. Palmer, have mercy!”

“This is really sad, I hope you all know that,” Wirt told them, then shrugged. “But I am feeling generous today, so we’ll stick with nine through twelve. I expect a lot of in-depth discussion about your quotes tomorrow though. Don’t make me regret this. Also don’t forget that oral presentations- Tim. Tim, I know you’re fifteen and that your mind is a frightening place, but seriously, have some self-control. And dignity. _Oral_ presentations are next week. For those of you that still want extra help going over what to do for them, I’ll be staying after school tomorrow and Friday, so you can come by and talk to me then if you need to. Yes, Hannah?”

A girl to his far left lowered her hand. “You’re not staying after today, Mr. Palmer?”

Wirt bit back his smile as he shook his head. “Not today. I’ve got plans for later this evening and I don’t want to cut anyone’s discussion short here because I have to scramble back home to make sure I’m on time.”

“You mean you actually have a life, Mr. Palmer?”

“Ha ha ha, that’s so funny. No, no I don’t. I live here. I never leave.” Wirt rolled his eyes while his response thoroughly entertained his students.

“What are your plans?” Pamela asked, then gasped. “Are you going on a date?”

“Who goes on a date on a Wednesday?”

“Mr. Palmer would.”

“He’s totally going on a date, he’s blushing!”

Wirt rubbed his cheek and sure enough it was warm to the touch. “I’m not blushing. I’m having an allergic reaction to your nosy questions.” The bell literally saved him from enduring any more of it. “Alright, scram. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“You didn’t say you weren’t going on a date. Does that mean you are? It totally means you are!”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” he replied, grabbing an eraser to clear away the remains of super ultra vocabulary crossword while his classroom cleared out.

“Is she hot?” Tim asked.

“Nope.” Wirt popped the ‘p’ as he continued to erase the board and the points for each team.

“Is _he_ hot?”

Wirt dusted off his palms on his pants as he went to his desk. “Bye, Tim.”

“Aw, c’mon, Mr. P.”

“ _Bye_ , Tim,” he repeated, smile exaggerated as he looked up and nodded to the door.

The kid sighed. “Fine. You better have a good story to tell us tomorrow though. You never tell us good stories, but you tell the second period class everything.”

“Well, that’s because I like the second period class more. They’re my favorite.” Wirt stuffed his satchel full of the necessary papers and books, then tugged the strap across his shoulders, grinning to himself as Tim sighed and rolled his eyes along with the other lingering teens before shuffling out.

Oh, yeah, his date was hot. His boyfriend. That he was seeing. Today.

Wirt grabbed his coat from off his chair and hardly waited until his last student abandoned the classroom to lock the door behind him, scurrying to the parking lot with a spring in his step and a flutter in his heart. He prided himself on how he’d held it together throughout the day, the promise of seeing Dipper simmering in his mind from the moment he woke up that morning and was now given the green light to bubble and boil away to his heart’s content. He had it bad, and he didn’t even care because he was pretty sure his neighbor had it just as bad. Maybe. He hoped so.

Sliding into the driver’s seat of his car, satchel and coat tossed to the passenger’s side, Wirt hoped that he’d be able to beat the chaos that was high school parking lots before confused parents and equally confused teenagers started trying to drive. He had a date with a hot guy to get to.

****

\----

****

“Plus, like, having him walk is a really big deal because no one’s let a man walk who still has to wear a binder because he hasn’t had time and is, honestly, maybe a little scared to get the surgery done.”

“Mmhm.” Dipper was in his kitchen, the female voice coming from his tablet’s speaker as he dug through his barren fridge in search of a water bottle. He popped it open, taking a swig and gesturing at the screen propped up on his counter. “So who’s putting up the fuss?”

“The show director. Ugh! I wish you were here, bro-bro.” On screen, his twin dropped her chin into her hands, lips forming a pout. “You’d call him a transphobic a-hole and be done with it.”

He laughed. “That’s what I do best, Mabes. Call people names and just be done.”

“Well, to be fair, I think you’d just like him. Not the show director, my model. He’s really sweet and, wow, does he look good in my male collection. I’m getting him on that runway. It’s done and settled.”

“You’ll be the scandal of the year.” He toasted her and she giggled. “I’m so proud.”

“You should be. I am awfully wonderful.” Long curls were flicked back, the cowlick on the crown of her head matching the one Dipper had as his cap was back in the living room. She started bouncing in her seat suddenly, breaking out into a bright smile. “So tell me about the boy.”

“I’ve told you everything about him already,” he reminded her, carrying the tablet out of the kitchen. “Like twice. I have no more details to give you.”

“You haven’t even taken a picture for me!”

“Mabel, what am I supposed to do? Hey, brand new boyfriend, my annoying sister wants to know what your face looks like. Pics?” There was a beat of silence and he only groaned when she began to nod emphatically. “Mabel, no.”

“Mabel, yes! Or, well, Dipper, yes! Do exactly that. He’ll think it’s cute.”

“You have no idea what he finds cute.”

“Well, from what you told me about picking out your new stove, I think I have a pretty good idea of that. Not to mention his tolerance levels! I have been shopping with you, Dippindots. And it is a nightmare. A giddy, overeager nightmare of kitten proportions.”

“Wow. I am so offended. I don’t even-” He stopped at the knock at his door, then checked his watch with a gasp. It was a quarter past five. “Mabel! I told you to tell me when it was five!”

“Oh, shucks, bro-bro. How could I have done this? Oh, no. France, why have your timezones betrayed me. I have forgotten the time. Woe is me.”

“Come on in! It’s unlocked!” Dipper called, flicking the camera to make his sister grin. And then he glared at her. “I’m not even ready. Again.”

She blew him a kiss, making him laugh.

It took a moment, the hesitation clear before the front door eased open and Wirt ducked inside with a small smile. “Wow. I didn’t even know people still told people to just ‘come on in’ these days. That’s pretty brave. I could be anyone.”

He looked over his shoulder, tipping his bottle of water towards him. “Well, I’ve got a good left hook when I need it.”

“Dipper. Dipper, is that him? Is that the guy? Dipper! Dipper, move your fat self. He sounds cute and I want to see if he is.”

“I’m talking to my dumb sister. Let me just mute her forever.”

“Rude!”

“Oh. Well, uh… tell her I say hi? Though she can hear me, right, so you don’t actually have to.” Wirt rubbed the side of his neck, staying near the front door. “I can- you know, come back. Or you can come over when you’re done?”

“No! It’s cool. She was supposed to tell me when it was five, but she’s the worst. So that didn’t happen.”

“Dipper,” she whined, “let me say hi to your boyfriend. This is so not fair. I’m all the way in Paris and you’re depriving me of details!”

“Well, come home then.” She stuck her tongue out at him and he rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. Here, man. I need to grab my shoes and whatever anyway.”

On the screen, Mabel straightened in her chair and squealed the minute it was Wirt’s face instead of her brother’s. “Dipper, you are so right! He’s adorable!”

“Oh my god. Nevermind. Just turn it off.”

“Don’t you dare!”

Wirt couldn’t help chuckling, casting Dipper a fond smile, cheeks pink, before focusing on the girl on the screen. “Hi Mabel. It’s nice to meet you. Sort of. Through the magic of technology.”

“Well, that’s good enough for the next three weeks. Maybe Dipper’ll be able to make toast by the time I'm in town again.”

“Thanks, Mabel,” Dipper grumbled, leaning over the side of the couch to get his laptop and save his work rather than sitting like a sane person.

“You’re welcome!” she chirped, giggling. “You know I live for these little moments.”

“You’re a pain.”

“Ignore him,” she told Wirt, tilting her head to the side and poking her cheeks. “I am adorable and precious and must be protected at all costs.”

“Burn the witch.” Dipper tucked his computer under his arm, straightening again. Wirt was given a grin before he went down the hall towards his bedroom, his plan to be very quick before his meddling sister could be herself and ruin his life. Or completely embarrass him forever.

Wirt’s gaze followed him as he vanished, then flitted back to Mabel with a small smile. “So, ah… he’s told you about our cooking lessons, huh?”

“Sure did! Do me a favor and scrunch your nose really quick. Please.” When he did so, though confused, she laughed. “Okay, I can see why he likes that. Pro-tip: don't cover that up if you want Dipper's eyes on you.”

“Um. Alright.” He held onto the tablet with one hand, subconsciously rubbing over his nose with the other. “I’ll- uh, try and remember that.”

“Good! I will not steer you wrong when it comes to my bro-bro.” She leaned onto her desk, smile bright. “Loving the sweater, by the way. I've got two in my session this year. And you look cute in that burnt orange. Oh, it's so nice his taste is finally improving.”

“My taste has always been better than yours.” Dipper hopped back into the living room, tugging at the heel of his sneaker. His hat was snagged, laid over his curls. “Okay, ready. And whatever she told you, it was a lie.”

“Oh, I was just telling him how you graduated from Brown with your writing major and your double minor in physics and computer science. Top of your little ivy league class.” Her wicked grin was a match to the one her twin could don. “This way he knows that you're not a total idiot, despite your kitchen issues.”

“Mabel, no.” Cheeks coloring, he tugged his hat low.

It was with a laugh and an impressed grin that Wirt took a moment to admire his sweet face, blush just as adorable as ever, before assuring Mabel, “I figured that out already, but I appreciate the additional details. Now I know who to go to in order to get them.”

“Ready and willing to share!”

“Of course you are. Time to stop staring at my boyfriend now.” Dipper grinned as he took the tablet from him, feeling a little thrill at calling him that. “I'll talk to you... wait. Did you say you'd be here in three weeks?”

“Uh-oh.”

He held the tablet out, glaring at her. “Mabel!”

“I know! I know. I'm going to miss Thanksgiving. I'm sorry. But something came up, and no one gets Thanksgiving here. It's an American holiday and they just think it's food and football and... Well, it kind of is. But you can spend it with Grunkle Stan-”

“He's going to see Grunkle Ford, and they don't see each other enough to crash that.”

There was a beat of silence. “I guess going home's out of the question.”

Dipper grimaced, distressed enough to forget Wirt's presence. “Without you to save me from 'son, I really think it's time you set that liberal arts nonsense aside and get into a real profession'? I don't think so.”

He huffed and they stared at one another, communicating silently. Dipper sighed, caving first. It was just a stupid holiday. Eating and football, sure. “I'll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Can you get out of the thing?”

“Not without losing a major sponsor.”

“Then I'm sure. I'll-” Abruptly remembering Wirt, Dipper glanced at him in abject mortification. God, he was a loser. A fire-starting loser. Crap. He looked back at the tablet and his sister, who smiled apologetically. “I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Love you, bro-bro.”

“Love you too, Mabes. Get some sleep.” Dipper ended the call, but had to give himself a moment before turning to face Wirt. “So... that just happened. Hi. How was, um, how was work?”

“It was fine. Had to crack the whip a few times, but what can you do with teenagers sometimes?” Wirt observed with a curious eye, hands wringing in front of him as he rocked on the balls of his feet. “So… do you really have nowhere to go for Thanksgiving?”

So they weren’t going to avoid that. Dipper ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Looks that way.”

Wirt pursed his lips, turning the idea over in his head once, then twice, then a third time just because it was a tad presumptuous and a pretty big step, but hey, it wouldn’t be the first time someone in their family had someone they’d only just started dating over for the holidays, right?

“Would you-?” He had to pause to clear his throat. “Sorry, this- this is like a huge step and I totally get it if the idea makes you uncomfortable or something because we only just started dating, but I just wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t throw this out there since Thanksgiving is kinda- not a big deal, but like, important to my family and stuff, so- uh… would you at all be interested in… I don’t know, maybe… spending it with me? Thanksgiving, that is. Spending Thanksgiving with me. And my family. In Lakeville.”

It was a huge step. A really huge step. Meeting the family, wow. He was surprised, then, by the urge to agree. “Are you just offering because I’m completely pathetic or because you’d actually want me around?”

“The first thing, obviously,” Wirt snorted and shook his head, quick to meet his gaze with a shy quirk to his lips. “I’m offering because I’d actually want you around, yeah. And… I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of you spending it alone. Especially when you can’t cook to save your life and there’s no way I’d be able to squeeze in enough lessons to prepare you for Thanksgiving. But like I said, if you don’t want to, I get it. I won’t be offended if you say, ‘no thanks, man,’ or whatever. I mean, I could even… I could stay here for Thanksgiving, too. Just us. It’s completely up to you.”

Dipper's first instinct was just the two of them, but he wasn't selfish enough for that. “No, I.... I wouldn't mind tagging along. I'd like that. If your family wouldn't mind.”

Wirt’s heart skipped a beat. “You would?  Great, that’s- okay, wow. Yeah, no, they won’t mind. My mom loves any excuse to beg off going to my aunt’s house for Thanksgiving, so this will be perfect for her. It’ll just be her, my step-dad, and Greg, so you know, no weird pressure from obscure, extended family members or anything.”

“Okay. Cool.” He'd never spent Thanksgiving with a boyfriend's family. What was he thinking? Except under the little bubble of panic was excitement. He really wanted to go. He really wanted to spend the holiday with this man. Oh boy. “So, uh, this is one way to start a date.”

“Yeah, right? Meeting your sister, sort of, and making plans for the next date before this one even gets going.” Wirt’s laugh held traces of his nerves, almost unable to believe this. He’d gone two years without dating anyone, and now here he was charging full-speed ahead and no signs of stopping if the excitement and wonder that threatened to shove his nerves off a cliff were anything to go by.

Yeah. Yeah, he really did want Dipper with him for Thanksgiving, to show off his childhood home, see what he was like with his brother because that was always huge. If a guy couldn’t get along with Greg, then he wasn’t the guy for him, though he had a very strong feeling that wouldn’t be the case with Dipper.

“So, um… hi.” Wirt waved awkwardly, the gesture turning into him raking his fingers through his hair. “I um… I’ve really been looking forward to this. All day. With the whole butterflies and pining and watching the clock thing. My students can attest to that. They know what’s up- or, they _think_ they know what’s up. Anyway, it’s- it’s good to see you.”

“It's kind of completely cute thinking about you standing in the front of a classroom, staring at a clock and thinking of me. I was doing the same, but it was my watch at the end of every page.” His smile spread, warm and hinting at the shyness he always fought to hide. “You make me feel like one of those teenagers.”

Wirt grinned, the shyness as adorable as when his cheeks blossomed with color, then held out his hand to him, offering it for him to take with his own. “Good to know I’m not the only one who feels that way.”

“No, you’re definitely not.” Dipper took his hand, giving it a squeeze. “By the way, I’m hoping Thanksgiving isn’t the next date. I’d absolutely like to spend time with you between then and now.”

“I think we can arrange that.” He glanced down at their hands, rubbing his thumb over Dipper’s as he lifted it back to his eyes with a tilt of his head. “You ready to not start a fire and get some food out of it?”

“I might be.” He snagged his keys and pushed the door open, gesturing for Wirt to lead the way. “What’s on the menu?”

“How do you feel about salmon?”

He grinned, taking Wirt’s hand again after locking his door. “Sounds risky. I’m in.”

They found themselves back in Wirt’s kitchen, several printed pages sitting out on the counter along with a sheet of notebook paper filled out in the teacher’s hasty scrawl. Ingredients and instructions he’d gotten over the phone from his mother for a potential recipe that wasn’t “too challenging.” Like he had initially, his mom seemed to have a lot of faith in his newest student not being nearly as bad a cook as he claimed to be despite Wirt insisting, “No, Mom, seriously, he put something in the microwave for an hour.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s a bad cook, Wirt. So he forgot he put something in the microwave, it happens to everyone,” she’d waved off.

“Mom, there was a fire in the microwave. I have never seen someone set fire to something with a microwave.”

Still, he knew his mom’s recipe was good and as long as he was there to handle most of the more dangerous tasks, then everything would turn out fine. Their spaghetti had been a success, after all, which reminded him…

“Hey, so how’d your homework assignment turn out?” Wirt asked as he gathered the printed recipes to set aside for a later date, though he did grab one for their side dish.

“Uh. So remember Monday?”

There was a small blip of a pause at the fridge. “Ah.” He grabbed two cans of soda and handed one to Dipper. “Well, at least you tried?”

“Yeah, but I’m thinking maybe you hold off on homework assignments for a few lessons. Unless they don’t involve appliances.” Dipper cracked open his soda, squinting at the notebook paper and single printed sheet. “This what we’re doing?”

“Mmhm. It’s mostly for the honey, mustard, dill glaze, since I’ve cooked salmon before, just not with this particular glaze so I thought it’d be a good idea to write it down to make sure we do it right.” Wirt flashed him a grin as he opened his soda and took a sip. “Then I figured new potatoes for the side and whatever vegetable we feel like. I’ve got broccoli, asparagus, green beans, and I think zucchini? I _think_ I still have zucchini.”

“Any of those are good.” He shifted the printed page back some, humming. No, it wasn’t going to work. He patted his pockets, came up empty. “Okay, give me, like, two minutes. I didn’t know this lesson was going to include reading.”

“Don’t tell me I have to teach you to read, too,” Wirt teased, though he was curious as he leaned against the counter to watch him. “Though I suppose it can’t be harder than teaching sophomores.”

“Oh, yeah. I do all my writing through dictation. My editing is an illusion.” He shook his head, grinning. “Seriously. Two minutes unless they’re not on my dresser. Maybe five minutes. I’ll be back.” Dipper saluted him before walking out, keys jingling as he retrieved them from his pocket.

They’re? Wirt pursed his lips as he hummed to himself, then shrugged and set his soda down to skim the list of ingredients. He could at least get that started. Two salmon fillets that he’d picked up on his way home from school along with a few other essentials were removed from the fridge, along with Dijon mustard and sprigs of fresh dill. He also got the oven preheating, figuring Dipper had shown his competency in being able to handle that last time and also that roasting the potatoes would take a bit longer than the meatballs had.

Just as he had everything out on the counter, he heard the front door open and close. It sent a quiet thrill through him, the thought of someone other than him opening his door in a familiar, comfortable way. It had been a while since he trusted someone to come and go as they liked. It had been a while since he’d done _anything_ with someone outside of work and family.

“Were you successful?” Wirt called out, double checking the recipe for the potatoes.

“Yeah. They weren’t on my dresser. I left them on the bathroom counter because I had an idea while I was in the shower and I had to check on something, and yeah.” Dipper slipped a pair of slim frames onto his nose and pushed the case into his pocket, scanning the counter. “So this already looks a million times more complicated.”

Wirt laughed. “It’s not really-” As he lifted his gaze, his tongue lost track of his words completely, struck speechless by the sight of him. Glasses. Right. That made sense.

His brain belatedly pieced together the clues he’d more or less been given and he mentally face-palmed because what else would he need to get to help him read? Though that was all secondary to the fact that his already very attractive neighbor - whom he’d already had starring in his dreams the past two nights - had somehow found a way to make himself more attractive in Wirt’s eyes.

Color filled his cheeks and burned up to the tips of his ears while warmth pooled in his belly, the same kind that embarrassing, private dreams inspired and left him restless and yearning through the night. Oh god, they were just glasses. So many people had them, it shouldn’t have been that big a deal. But those people weren’t Dipper and it was the sight of that man in particular in glasses that had his mouth go dry and his heart give a heavy thud. The slim frames drew more attention to his eyes and the curve of his cheeks. Wirt had to struggle against the urge to reach out and adjust them for him, then stroke just beneath them and down across his face with his fingertips to see if his blush was just as pretty in glasses.

“Uh-” Wirt’s flush only deepened as he realized he was just standing there ogling him, words still conveniently lost somewhere in the lovestruck haze his mind had become. “Wow. Sorry, I… what was I saying?”

“I, um. I don’t know,” Dipper admitted, taking a step towards him. He’d been a little uncertain at first, the staring making him self-conscious. He’d despised wearing them when he’d first gotten them in college and had since resigned himself to them. But the look in Wirt’s eyes had clued him in relatively quickly.

He took another step closer, uncertain of his moves here, out-of-practice. Dipper bit his lip, gaze flicking down to Wirt’s and back up. “So got a...” Pink dusted his cheeks. “Got a thing for glasses?”

Wirt’s breath caught - how was this gorgeous man standing in his kitchen? - eyes rounding as his tongue dampened his lips. “I didn’t- I didn’t realize I did,” he replied, voice coming out husky and strained as he took his own step to decrease the space between them. His head tilted in and down a little, his gaze falling to Dipper’s mouth as he worked up the courage to close the distance there, too. “I really… I really want to kiss you right now.”

Swallowing hard, Dipper twisted his hat to the side so it wouldn’t get in the way. “Please,” he breathed, reaching up, arms twining around Wirt’s neck, fingers curling into his sweater. Oh, god. “Been thinking about your mouth for days.”

“Oh…” Wirt swayed forward, hands finding Dipper’s hips to hold onto while his knees went weak. Slowly, he leaned in. His gaze drifting to his eyes and the way his eyelids seemed to grow heavier the closer he got. He felt his body shift against his touch, thrumming with the same electricity that pulsed through his own veins.

His grip tightened, directly contrasting the first feather-light brush of their lips. Soft, testing the waters, Wirt let his mouth linger over Dipper’s, head spinning from the sensation. His eyes closed and he pressed firmer, hands sliding around to his back to pull him closer.

Grip tightening in the fabric of his sweater, Dipper's eyes closed as he kissed back. It was a simple thing, in theory, two sets of lips meeting. But with Wirt, warmth flooded him. His blood swam in his veins, his mind hazed over. A hand lifted, fingers tangling in his hair as Dipper lifted to his toes, an eager little sound parting his lips as their chests pressed together. _More_.

A gasp answered him, Wirt deepening the kiss more by accident than design, but he did nothing to stop it, not with Dipper so close and warm and eager. The little, electric pulses of desire weren’t quelled as his tongue swept over his lower lip, only heightened. The longer they stayed connected, the more he wanted him. This man who couldn’t cook, but could kiss. Who bounced around appliance stores the same way he bounced up to kiss him back. Who never failed to leave him stunned and yearning at the door and thought about his mouth for days. Oh god, he wanted him. Wirt clutched at his back, keeping him cradled against him as lapped further into his mouth.

A moan tumbled into the kiss, unbidden as warmth flared into heat. Dipper’s tongue lapping eagerly at Wirt’s, body wriggling in the impossible effort to get closer. It had been so long since someone had held him close, so long since he’d had the taste of someone else, so long since desire had pulsed through him. But had it ever been like this? Had he ever been this greedy this fast?

He wanted everything. His mouth, the firm hands at his back, his smiles, his laughter, his teasing. He wanted to see him mad, upset, sad. Aroused. Over him, under him, surrounded by him, surrounding him. Fingers bunching in the sweater he clutched, Dipper whimpered into the kiss. No, it had never been like this. It was terrifying. It was glorious.

It was too much. All the wriggling and the sweet noises effectively fogged Wirt’s mind, hips aching to move against Dipper, warm and willing. With a gasp of his name, Wirt broke the kiss, his brow tipping to rest on his boyfriend’s as he tried to catch his breath. He’d never had a first kiss quite like that, god no. Heart racing and heat still churning, he eased his grip on his shirt to stroke along his spine and murmured his name once again.

Dipper blinked his eyes open, pupils blown wide, the glasses that had started the whole mess a little askew. He ran his tongue over his lips as if to keep Wirt’s taste there. “That- I- _Wow_. I want- I mean, I really, _really_ want-” His hips shifted as if to get relief, but there was none when they were close enough for him to feel Wirt’s desire. God, it felt good to want someone again. For it to be mutual. “We probably shouldn’t, right? Probably. It’s- I mean, it’s fast. I don’t- I don’t do this. I don’t have sex this fast, ever, but _god_ , do I want you right now.”

“Oh my god,” Wirt breathed, shaky and shallow. He opened his eyes, gaze just as dazed and dark as Dipper’s as his words registered and made him shiver. “I don’t- I don’t know, I mean- I don’t do this either. This doesn’t happen- but- you’re so-” Wirt swallowed audibly, fingers trembling as one hand released him to gently adjust the skewed frames that had started this. No, he’d felt like this before, the glasses just decimated his final barriers, the dregs of his self-control out the window. His touch trailed over his flushed cheek. “I want you, too, and I don’t know what to do about that. Well, I mean, I do, but- you’re right, it’s fast.”

“Yeah.” He tipped his head into the touch, light as it was, and tried for a smile when all he wanted was to writhe and rut against him. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to concentrate on cooking when I know what kissing you is like, though. That was... an experience.”

“Mmhm,” Wirt hummed his agreement, unable to keep from running his tongue over his own lips, the memory vivid and lighting his nerves on fire. “It doesn’t help that I really want to kiss you again.” He offered him a sheepish smile through the fog of lust still hanging between them. “But I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”

“Don’t- Oh my god. Don’t say things like that because I want you to kiss me again, and I won’t want you to stop.” Dipper tortured both of them by lowering to the flats of his feet, staying as close as possible.

Wirt pursed his lips together, just only stopping himself from ducking after him. “Okay. Okay. Um…” He let both hands fall and took a half step back for some air. His gaze simply fell on his glasses again, his kiss swollen lips, his blown pupils, and Wirt had to cover his mouth with his hand, taking his turn to bounce on the balls of his feet with nervous energy. “Wow. Yeah, cooking is definitely going to be an adventure tonight.”

“Yeah, well...” Dipper took a steadying breath that did little to calm him. His fingers itched with the need to touch, so he hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and rocked back on his heels. “Keep your glasses kink in check if you actually expect me to be able to read these recipes and we should be fine.”

Laugh breathless, relieved to be returning to their casual camaraderie - though the disappointment fluttering in his gut did not go unnoticed - Wirt removed his hand to grin at him as he purposefully scrunched his nose. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Still not quite on an even keel, he didn’t hide the way his gaze was immediately drawn to his nose. It was a ridiculous, dumb little thing, but he adored it just the same. He dragged his teeth along his bottom lip. “That... mmhm. You should seriously just... stop doing that. With your face. It’s not helping me not kiss you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dipper. It’s just my face.”

“Your- It’s-” He grabbed the bill of his cap, twisting it back around. “Your nose. It’s- The way it scrunches up is cute, okay? It drives me crazy.”

It was one thing hearing it from Mabel, and another from Dipper entirely. Wirt laughed again, the wrinkle coming naturally this time as he patted his heart. “Oh, wow. You’re adorable. I love it.” Cheeks dusted with a pleasant flush, lighter now the more he relaxed, he reached out and tapped the bill of his cap. “I know. Mabel told me. I just wanted to see for myself. It was worth it.”

He glanced up, eyes wide. “Mab-! I’m going to kill her. Oh my god. When she’s actually, like, _here_ , I’m not leaving you alone with her. She’s evil.”

“It’s only fair that I get some intel from her since Greg will be all over you with stories of me the second we walk through the door. No, wait, he won’t even let us get that far. He’ll ambush us in the driveway. You won’t even be out of the car and his face will be against the window.” The oven beeped, catching his attention to let him know it was now at four hundred and fifty degrees. “Cooking. Right. You still up for your lesson?”

“Yeah.” His grin flashed teasingly. “You were a good appetizer and all, but we should probably have some actual food.”

Wirt snorted and tossed him a potato. “You’re lucky that you won me over before using your terrible pick-up lines on me,” he told him, but the color in his cheeks didn’t fade. “Now go be a good cooking student and wash those for me.”

“Aye-aye, captain.” Dipper bumped their hips together as he passed by, watching Wirt roll up his sleeves more than he did the job he was supposed to be doing. That little bit of skin shouldn’t have been as tantalizing as it was. Nothing about this poetic English teacher should’ve been as tantalizing as he was, but there Dipper was, lust still lighting little fires along his skin.

He was more distracted during their second lesson than he had been during the first one. Though, to be fair, so was Wirt. Dipper made sure of that, leaving the glasses on for the duration of the lesson, peering at him over the tops of the frames when he discovered that made his boyfriend stutter. It was fun, really, and just nice to want someone, to be wanted in return.

After his disastrous previous relationship and months of being alone after, he wanted to savor that feeling. He wanted to savor the anticipation. And, most importantly, he wanted to know more about what made Wirt Palmer tick. He didn’t do fast, casual sex. He liked strings. Making love to a man who scrunched his nose on purpose just to make Dipper blush and smile was deserving of strings and promises.

They’d start with a holiday and work from there.

They were lucky nothing ended up burnt, both distracted by each other and only saved by Wirt’s ability to hear alarms. “So I’m really tempted to start coming over here just for food every night,” he teased. “I just need to know when you normally eat, so I can sneak in without having to actually help cook.”

“It’s not always such a grand affair over here,” Wirt chuckled, kicking at Dipper’s ankle under the table as he sat across from him to eat, after deciding that across was much safer than next to at his little, round table for four. “Sometimes it’s just a box of macaroni and cheese or a peanut butter sandwich depending on how the day went. The salmon here is pretty much just me trying to show off. But uh… you’re welcome to join me whenever you want.” His playful demeanor shifted into something a little more bashful as he tapped a dill roasted potato with his fork. “It’d be nice, I think, not to eat dinner alone every night, you know?”

Dipper had toed off his shoes under the table as he'd spoken, so let his foot swing in retaliation. His toes skimmed up his leg teasingly. “I know, yeah. I think once I'm finished editing, I will. What's the point of dating your gorgeous neighbor if you can't pop in now and then? And that's an open invitation for you, by the way. If your day's stressful enough that you're reaching for comfort food, come get me. Or if your day's great and you just want to brag, I'm around.”

“Okay.” Wirt shifted, pressing his lips together as he smiled, heart fluttering and stomach still tingling just a little from the words and the teasing touch. He followed suit with his shoes, because really, he wasn’t going anywhere else and he might as well be comfortable. He let his leg swing back so Dipper’s foot would fall, then crossed his ankle with his own like a barrier. “How is editing going by the way? Not causing too much of distraction, am I?” He punctuated his question with a light caress over his shin.

“Only the best kind of distraction.” He pointed with his fork, squirming in his chair. Brat. “But it's going well. Couple more chapters, handful of scenes. I'm at the point where I'm - this is stupid. I'm sad it's almost over. I get sad at the end of the first draft too. Like the ride's over.”

“I don’t think that’s stupid. People tend to get sad when they’re reading a book that they really enjoy comes to an end, so I imagine it must be twice the emotional rollercoaster for the author. You put your all into it, I imagine, and then it’s just… over. Until the next book, that is, but it’s still not the same.”

“It's not, trust me. All but four of my characters are happy it's over, and I'm miserable. I also have no self-control, and maybe I'm avoiding finishing, so book five already has its first chapter.” Dipper grinned, shrugging. “I'm going to take a couple of weeks off once four's finished. Recharge my brain, let the ideas work.” He freed his foot, rubbing the bottom of it to the top of Wirt's. “I'll probably end up annoying you, so be prepared for that.”

“Mm. Right in time for finals. Perfect,” Wirt chuckled, his turn to squirm as he cut away at his fish with the side of his fork, but he left his foot where it was for the time being. “I’ll have to return the favor over winter break.”

“At least you're not taking the finals. You just pass them out, listen to muttered complaints they think you can't hear, and grade them later.” Dipper swallowed a bit of potato, humming to himself. He liked the thought of winter break, of having Wirt around. Date ideas flickered through his mind. “What's your favorite part? About teaching, I mean.”

Wirt pursed his lips as he sought the words to explain it. “I guess it’s… that moment where I can see something resonate with a student. It doesn’t happen with everyone, I mean, not everyone gets that jazzed about English, so I get it and do my best just to make the class engaging for them, but then sometimes something sparks an interest in one of them. Something that they didn’t expect.” He nudged his foot. “That and I like to be there for the ones having a hard time. High school’s tough, and even though it’s my job to make learning challenging, it’s not my job to make things tougher on them.”

“I shadowed this woman for the second book, this calc teacher in England. She was the worst. Hated every second of her job and made it obvious. She droned on, was impatient every time a student needed help. And I like calculus, but she made me hate it for a few weeks. Teacher's like that? Find something else to do. You're helping nobody.

“See, originally, Maalik's sounding board - companion, helper, whatever you want to call them - was supposed to be a teacher. Instead, she inspired the villain. Teacher's waiting for book five, not that you heard it from me.” He stretched out his other leg, giving Wirt's other foot attention. “I think it would've been different if I'd shadowed you instead. At the very least someone like you, someone who cares.”

“Well, I suppose things happen for a reason. I mean, your dastardly teacher was a great villain. And I don’t like calculus, so for me that makes it even better.” He grinned, glancing under the table briefly with amusement. “What does book five’s teacher teach? Or, you know, if you were ever to have a teacher character in an upcoming book, what would you have them teach?”

“Mm. That's one of my problems, actually. I know it's something classical and I know it's college level, but he's not giving me the whole picture yet. More everyday, but he's definitely a big reason book four's lagging some. He's that minor character who wanted more development. He's not the naysayer I first pegged him as.” His eyes narrowed a fraction, cheek dropping onto his palm. “Characters are like people. They're always developing, always changing. First impressions should never be the lasting ones.”

Humming his agreement, Wirt slid both of his feet out from under Dipper’s, then pinned them. “Characters might even be under more pressure to develop and change. Their very existence is dependent on how they enhance the story, and while sometimes you can find that in a static character, they can’t stay unchanging for long. Not if they’re intended to mean something beyond that. Or beyond the mold one would think they’re supposed to fit in. Do your minor characters do that to you often? Demand more development at the last minute?”

“No. This one's special, and he wasn't supposed to be. I should’ve seen it. He kept cropping up the whole time I was writing, appearing in scenes he wasn’t supposed to be in. I honestly wasn’t sure if he was trying to be the villain or something else. But there he was, annoying Maalik.

“Which still hasn’t changed. Not being where you’re supposed to be? Good way to piss off a psychic. Plus, like I said, I pegged him as a naysayer. He’s a little grumpy in his first appearance, but it’s early in the morning and no one wants to be woken up by screaming. But Maalik still hasn’t learned that little rule about first impressions, so the annoyance hangs on through most of the fourth one.

“Honestly, I think this guy’s what he’s been needing for a while. First book, this is Maalik and this is what he does. Second book, this is _why_ he does what he does. Third book, this is why what he’s doing isn’t exactly self-sustaining. Fourth book, he’s falling apart. And it looks like he’ll crumble in the fifth, which’ll be fun to write since I get to build him back up. Make him better like he’s going to need to be since-”

Dipper broke off, the intensity in his eyes fading as he focused on Wirt. “Sorry. Excuse me while I ramble on and hint at major spoilers and bore you to death. Just shut me up, okay? I’m used to it. Mabel’s the only one who lets me ramble like this.”

Wirt snorted. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be reading your books if they bored me, so don’t worry about that. Besides, it’s really interesting hearing stuff like that from the author himself. I do get the spoiler thing, however, not that I’d tell anyone or anything, but we can change gears if you want. Though I have to say, you’re good at building up interest. Now I have to buy the fourth and fifth books.”

Relieved and grateful, Dipper wiggled a foot free and rubbed his leg. “You weren’t going to buy them anyway? Ouch.”

“No, I was just going to steal Greg’s copies when he was done with them, but now I don’t think I’ll be able to wait,” he teased. “Not to mention I’m sure you get a percentage of how many books are sold or however it works nowadays. I don’t want to deprive you of your hard-earned profits.”

“Sort of. I get a set amount no matter how many books are sold. But there’s extra profit once a certain number’s hit, and it’s complicated.” He waved a hand, finances a topic he wasn’t altogether fond of.

“But here’s a question for you that might help me out. Say you assign a paper that’s opinion based. Say it’s what they liked about a book, what made a positive impact on them. Must have five sources, whatever. But a kid turns in a paper that cites all the reasons why the book _could_ have been positive but wasn’t. Everything else works. Sources are cited correctly, paper’s well-written with syntax, grammar, punctuation all done well, it’s the right length. Basically, everything’s right but the content itself isn’t what you expected.

“What do you do with it? What do you say to the student?”

“Mm.” Wirt chewed thoughtfully, brow furrowing slightly as he swallowed. “Well, if the mechanics of the paper were all A worthy and the thought that went into it clear, I would give them an A. And I mean, as far as the content goes, it’s not as if they’re completely ignoring my instructions. Honestly, they’re probably following them better than someone who wrote about the positive impact only because they had to instead of giving me their honest opinion and defending it, which is something everyone should be able to do and should be encouraged, so I couldn’t very well penalize them for it.

“It takes a lot of courage to go against the grain and actually commit to it, especially at the age my students are at now, so I’d be sure to commend them for it. Let them know I was impressed.” He nodded to himself, mentally emerging from the scenario to look at Dipper curiously. “Did that help?”

“Yeah, it did. What-if scenarios are good for character development. But maybe it’s good I didn’t follow somebody like you around. Book two’s Maalik wouldn’t have been able to handle that.” Grinning, Dipper freed his second foot and rested them both atop Wirt’s. “Also, where were you when I was in high school? I did something like that and it was the only F I’ve ever gotten ever.”

“I was also in high school. Probably,” he laughed. “It’s funny, now that you’ve said that, I can totally see you being one of those students that has something to say about every point I make.” Shaking his head, he relaxed in his seat and left his legs where they were. “When you’re done with your book, you should swing by sometime. If you’re ever around Langtree High and don’t mind feeling like you’re being sucked back into your youth slash really too old to be walking by lockers.”

“More like ‘haha, I don’t have to go here’ because I’m vindictive like that. But I’ll keep that in mind if it wouldn’t bug you. When are your free periods so I’m not popping up while you’re actually working?”

“Third and then lunch is right after, so I basically have two hours to myself between ten-ish and noon… ish.” Wirt waved his hand in approximation.

He laughed, setting his fork onto his empty plate. “Okay. Also important - where?”

“What, not up to combing the campus for me by poking your head into other people’s classrooms?” Wirt grinned, propping his elbows up on the table. “I’ll get you a map and circle my room. I’m in a block of portables between the football field and the gym. They’re ‘renovating’ one of the buildings to make more space.”

“Was it one of those projects that was supposed to be done by the end of summer? But, whoops, now it’s November. Our bad.”

Wirt had to bite back his smile, lips and cheeks straining against it. “Basically.” He managed to reply. “More like end of summer two years ago though. Whoops. I’ve been in my portable the entire time I’ve worked there. I’m actually pretty fond of it now. Squeaky floorboards and poor insulation and all.”

“Oh, public school. Living the dream.” Dipper searched his face, greedily absorbing every expression and filing them away. “So you’ve worked there for two years. Is that how long you’ve been a teacher?”

“More or less. I mean, aside from what I had to do while getting my credentials and then I worked as a sub for a bit before getting hired at Langtree. But yeah, this is my first official teaching gig. Now just gotta rack up the years until I get tenure.”

“Two down, what? Three to go? I think it’s five in this state. You’ll make it.” He shrugged, glancing at their cleared plates before meeting his gaze again. It would be polite to get up, offer to help him handle dishes, and go before overstaying his welcome.

But he wasn’t in the mood to be polite if that included leaving. Not yet. “So what made you pick this place? The city, the building. How long have you been here?”

Wirt laughed. “So many questions. Uh, hang on, let's see. What made me pick this city? The job. I was sort of hoping to be a bit closer to home, but this isn't so bad. I mean, it could be worse, you know? This building because it's not near a college and the rates were reasonable.”

His gaze traveled over the table as well, making the call to ease out of his chair, taking both of their plates, but not to hasten towards the end of the date. He had something else in mind that he was pretty sure he could handle now that the effects from their kiss had ebbed. “So, going on three years here. I definitely like it more than I thought I would initially. Lakeville's a small town and I wasn't sure how I'd handle life in the city. What about you? Do you hail from a sprawling cityscape or simple, small town like me?” The plates were rinsed lightly, then left in the sink as he turned to face him.

Dipper studied him, smile slight as he realized they were in agreement. This date wasn’t over yet. “Yes.” The smile widened. “Well, both. We grew up in Piedmont. You know, California? It’s kind of big but we were in the suburbs, so it managed to feel small town. And when we were twelve, we started spending all of our summers here. I guess I liked this more.

“Whenever you want me to stop asking you things, just ask, by the way. I’ve always just been curious about the things that interest me, and you’re pretty easily the most interesting man I’ve come across in a very long time.”

“You must not meet many people.” Wirt’s cheeks colored just the same as he shook his head. “And I don’t mind the questions. You can always ask me things. Though I’ve got something to ask you right now. If you don’t have to get back to editing right away, would you want to take this to the living room? We could just keep talking or put on a movie or something.”

Dipper rose, nodding. “Wanna put on something we’ve both seen and talk over most of it?”

“Yeah, sounds good to me.”

After supplying them both with new beverages, Wirt led him out to the living room and gestured to the couch for him to sit. While he was definitely interested in talking more and exploring more of Dipper’s interests through something like a movie, he was also very much interested in getting to know how they fit together. The rush they’d experienced earlier was a bit of a wake up call to the things they hadn’t done yet that typically came before sex for him personally in past relationships. They’d kissed, yeah, and held hands, but they hadn’t really hugged much and they certainly hadn’t cuddled on a couch. Something he was keen on rectifying.

With the remote in hand, Wirt settled beside Dipper. He offered him a tentative smile as their thighs brushed. After the amount of contact they’d had under the table this should’ve come easily, but Wirt still felt his heart skip a beat and his stomach flutter at how close they were. He swallowed and glanced away, flipping through the channels until they both agreed on one of the movies taking up an evening timeslot.

With an answering smile, Dipper’s hat was tossed onto the trunk and he wondered what, if anything, was inside. The question could be saved, though, in favor of answering one that didn’t need to be asked aloud. He liked cuddling, liked being close. Their kiss had been an explosive connection and he had a feeling it would take very little to reignite the desires it had brought to light, but that wasn’t enough for Dipper.

Explosions were brief. Fires that burned hot faded fast. He wanted to see if what they had could simmer. So it was easy for him to snuggle close against his side, sliding down to drop his cheek onto his shoulder and band an arm around his waist.

Exhaling slowly, Wirt reciprocated by leaning in and letting his arm rest over Dipper’s shoulders. Even with his heart beating the way it was, the teacher found the same ease in the contact, something that couldn’t be said for others he’d dated in the past. It was more than just the elemental attraction. There was companionship in time spent with Dipper that was as comforting as it was electrifying. For now he relished the comfort aspect of it as they delved back into conversation, punctuated by poking fun at actors’ expressions or poorly devised lines, their attentions ultimately on one another and discovering still how they both ticked.

When Dipper laughed at one of Wirt’s quips, the latter didn’t even think about it before pressing his lips to the corner of his grin. It wasn’t meant to recreate the overwhelming haze from their first kiss, this one lighter and born of affection for the man sitting beside him. As he pulled back, Wirt’s gaze flitted across his face to gauge his reaction, belatedly realizing he’d only assumed that Dipper would even want a kiss and that cuddling didn’t necessarily mean it was okay to kiss, but his boyfriend didn’t seem to mind it.

Dipper straightened a bit to make the angle easier before laying his lips over Wirt’s for a firmer kiss. It was no less potent than the first, no less dangerous as he felt his heart quivering. He still yearned to touch and be touched when it was over, but it wasn’t with a desperate edge. He definitely wanted this man, but was content to smile and playfully rub their noses together.

Wirt’s scrunched instinctively, smile pleased and just a little bit giddy over the softer kisses. It was good to know they could handle this, savor the gentle thrumming of their hearts and the sweetness of their lips brushing without completely losing their minds. Not that he minded losing himself to the sensations, and boy would it give him something to relive during the night along with everything else Dipper teased him with. Poetry and pajamas - or lack thereof - and now the pleasure of kissing him senseless were all doing their part to seduce him and it was working.

He supposed he’d have to return the favor.

As they said their goodbyes for the night - “It’s a school night, Dipper.” - Wirt lingered in his doorway while he watched his boyfriend fiddle with his lock, neither in a hurry to part despite the school night and the editing that still needed to be done. He wondered if Dipper had anything to torture him with tonight, but was content with never knowing as he tilted his head and waited for him to turn around once he had the door open. Expression pensive, Wirt hummed to himself to catch Dipper’s interest before any smart comments could come to his mind.

“So I’ve been thinking…” he started, lips twisting to the side as his gaze skimmed over the length of his body. “About what you said the other night. You know, about me wearing a lot of clothes to bed.”

Dipper’s grip tightened on the doorframe. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Wirt flicked his gaze up to meet his, innocent enough as he took a step back into his apartment. “Think I’m going to try wearing a little less tonight.” His smile turned sweet as he made to close the door. “Goodnight, Dipper.”

When the door closed, Dipper couldn’t do much more than let out a wheeze. How much was a little less, exactly? And would it be completely and totally wrong of him to start a fire just to see if he made good on those words?

Probably. Definitely. But it would be just as worth it.

Blowing out an unsteady breath, Dipper took a step back. “Wow. Goodnight, Wirt,” he mumbled to the hallway and closed his door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wirt makes for the best teacher, wow <3 I want to play some super ultra vocabulary crossword okay XD
> 
> Also wow. Smoking hot kisses and in-depth chatting and yay. I [syl here] love writing this au! And I know Skim does too c:


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead!

He was finished.

It had been months in the making, Dipper breaking his normal rule and writing throughout the summer as he’d been feeling restless and unfulfilled. Now, though? Now he was finished and it wasn’t even Thanksgiving. Book four would be out by April, and he still had plenty of time to work on book five before summer rolled around and returned him to his normal schedule.

What made the satisfaction of being complete sweeter was being finished Friday. After Wirt’s little tease had made him entirely incapable of going to sleep Wednesday night, he’d buckled down and used the inspiration the man provided to work.

Blinds closed and only leaving his living room to get drinks from his fridge or, sometime Thursday, his empty stomach had tried to start a revolt in protest of absentminded starvation and he’d ordered pizza. Three pizzas because he’d clicked the wrong thing and, when the pizza delivery kid had shown up, Dipper had only sighed at his own stupidity.

At least he’d be well fed during his writing binge and had no chance of letting the kitchen erupt into flame.

He’d also answered the door once for Wirt, who’d offered him an apologetic smile for interrupting him and the map of his school. Though, if Dipper thought about it, hadn’t that happened just that morning? He was fairly certain that had been when he’d come by, vaguely remembering something along the lines of, “I know it’s early, but I saw your light on,” being said.

Time had blurred quite a bit, his sleep coming in the form of cat naps that tended to leave him more tired than when he’d fallen asleep in the first place. But his boyfriend had provided just enough answers and had left just enough buzzing energy in him that it was Friday morning that he finished his editing.

And had then slept for a solid two hours before sending the files to his agent and publisher to be reviewed. He really should’ve still been exhausted and normally would have been, but after a shower and shave - god, he’d probably looked like a mess to Wirt - Dipper found himself bursting with the energy only a completed book inspired.

Or really, really good sex. But the completed book was what he had and what carried him on light feet through Langtree High as ten o’clock drew near. The bell went off just as he reached the portable Wirt had marked on the map and students bustled out in a flurry, several of the fifteen year olds catching sight of him. He didn’t bother biting back the grin at some of the not-so-quiet whispers he overheard.

Thank god he wasn’t an overly hormonal teenager anymore.

Except when he stepped into the room and watched Wirt erasing whatever he’d had on the whiteboard and felt a confusing burst of delight and lust, he could quietly admit that maybe he was still kind of a hormonal teenager.

Grinning, Dipper let the door close behind him and leaned against it. “Y’know, Mr. Palmer, I never got how teachers could write so neatly on boards. Every time I ever tried, it looked like chicken scratch.”

Wirt nearly dropped the eraser, smile bright as his eyes lit up. “Hey, you’re actually here! Wow, I didn’t think- I mean, you looked really tired earlier and- but you look much better now, not that you didn’t look good or anything before, just- sorry. I’ll shut up. Start over. Yeah.” He rubbed the side of his neck as his heart fluttered. “It’s a microchip. They implant all teachers with it as soon as we finish the credential program to ensure optimum, whiteboard penmanship.”

God, he was cute and Dipper’s mood was high, making him bold. He straightened from the wall and crossed to him. “I’ll have a smart comeback for that in a second, but I just realized it’s been two days since I kissed you.” Dipper cupped his cheeks, lifted up to his toes. “I should really remedy that,” he murmured, mostly against his lips as he sank into a kiss.

Breath catching, Wirt felt a wealth of warmth seep into him, flooding his entire being from the top of his head and down. Two days had been too long, his heart decided with a quiver, and his arms wrapped around him to keep him close and from vanishing from his classroom as unexpectedly as he appeared.

“I am all for your remedies,” he assured him when it ended, their noses brushing. “And kisses. Definitely all for those, too.”

“Luckily, they’re the same thing right now.” Dipper couldn’t help but kiss him again, lighter and quicker. “I did completely forget what my smart comeback was, so there’s that small drawback.”

“Smart comeback to what?” His lips quirked up. “I’m willing to ignore that drawback in favor of one more of these.” Wirt eased into another kiss, thrilled by the ability to do so. “Definitely worth it in my opinion.”

“I’ll say.” Hands slid from his cheeks to the back of his sweater, Dipper content to stay right where he was. “Anyway, hi.”

“Hi. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“You know, just thinking about you, in the mood to celebrate some.” He grinned. “Plus, you said I should come by when I finished the book. So all that sort of worked out.”

“Oh, you finished? That’s great.” Wirt returned the smile before pecking his cheek, then tried to hide the silly way that of all things made him blush by letting go of Dipper to lower the bill of his cap. “Definitely calls for some celebration. Did you want to go out or something? I can leave a note on the door for the kids in case they want to come by during lunch. Which I’ll probably do if we stay in, too, now that I think about it.”

“Stay, go - I don’t really care. I just really wanted to see you.” Laughing, he pushed his cap back to reveal his own flushed face. It was from embarrassment at the admission as much as it was sheer giddiness. “I think I’ve gotten, like, a grand total of five hours sleep since Wednesday, so I’m going to crash hard eventually. But right now I’m just- I’m _done_. And it’s a day early, technically, since I got the extension. I’m just really excited, and I- I don’t know. I just wanted to share that with somebody, and you’re the first person I thought of.”

Wirt couldn’t help it, he was too adorable, so he cupped his chin to tilt his head up and pressed their lips together, joining him in his dizzying delight. “Well, I’m… I’m honored that you thought of me. That you wanted to share something this big with me.” Beaming at him, enamored with him, he traced his jaw with a light touch, then dropped it to take his hand. “Let’s stay in for now. I’ll take you out for some official celebrating after you get some more sleep in.”

“Yeah. That was kind of the extent of my plan. Come bug you for a little while, see if you wanted to go out tonight, and then get some sleep.” He looked down at their hands, lacing their fingers. “So far, so good.

“And warning you now, your second period’s going to be asking you who I am Monday. Heard a lot of ‘who is that?’ and ‘I don’t know’ and couple of ‘he’s hot’ which is flattering, but eleven years younger than me is not my thing.”

“Oh, really? You know, I really thought it was- I’m kidding,” he chuckled, squeezing his hand. “Well, I trust my second period to keep secrets. They’re my arsonist theorists, after all. We have that bond. They’ve been dying to know more about you anyway, like I’m not even exaggerating. Every morning they ask about the ‘not-secretly-a-serial-killer guy’ and if we’ve become best friends. Two of my students ship us already and they don’t even know about the dates.”

“It’s because you’re just so mild-mannered. Who wouldn’t ship such a mild-mannered guy with a serial killing arsonist? I really kind of wish I could be here just to see their faces when you’re like, ‘Oh, that was just the arsonist. No big deal.’” Amused, Dipper pressed a kiss to the back of Wirt’s hand. “Might kill more class time than poetry.”

“I’ll install a hidden camera Monday morning before class so I can document that moment for you and preserve it for your enjoyment. Which means I’ll have to spend the weekend researching cameras because I have no idea how they work nowadays. I guess I could use my phone? I don’t know. Not that I know how to use that either.” Huffing out a laugh, he led Dipper back to the whiteboard to finish clearing it, leaving one hand in his while the other took up the dry eraser.

“I’ll live without it and just wait for you to come home and reenact it for me.” Dipper swung their arms, still bubbling with excitement. “I’ll never be able to take you home to my parents, though, if you’re this bad at technology. My dad would not approve of this relationship.”

Wirt finished, placing the hand that held the eraser over his heart, appearing for all intents and purposes dismayed. “Stymied before we even started, what once took malignant pleasure in my ignorance, the bane of my existence, now emerges from time’s veil to force us into roles of clandestine lovers, star-crossed in the shadow of technology’s progress. It’s a tragedy to be sure.”

“We'll give Romeo and Juliet a run for their money, that's for sure. Just less pointless death and more premarital sex.” Dipper's grin turned wicked. “I think those would be acceptable changes.”

The eraser dropped as Wirt’s jaw did, lips parting in silent surprise as his cheeks colored, heat curling lazily in his belly, the grin affecting him more than the words, though the unexpectedness of them certainly did its part as well. “Uh… y-yeah. Yeah, I’m… I’m amenable to those changes.”

“Yeah?” Laughing, Dipper released his hand to wrap his arms around his waist, giving him a fond squeeze.  “You're seriously adorable.”

Wirt’s cheeks puffed out as he willed the warmth in his face to cool. “I- I wasn’t expecting the conversation to go in that direction. That’s all,” he defended, arms settling over his shoulders. “I’m not completely in that mindset.”

“Well, I didn't mean now, as much fun as that would probably be. I don't know if you're a top kind of guy yet, but I would absolutely let you take me on your desk so you'd never sit at it again without thinking of me.” He nipped his neck lightly. “But I'm ill-equipped for that particular adventure.” There was also the fact that he was just a little nervous. It had been a long time since someone had stirred him up the way Wirt had. He didn't want to ruin it.

He hadn’t ruined it so far, though he did ruin Wirt’s attempts to rid himself of the flush staining his cheeks as he started to babble. “Uh… wow. Um. I- I’m an any kind of guy? It- it doesn’t really matter to me. It’s- whatever feels right in the- the moment. Yeah. Probably has to do with the whole labels thing. Mmhm.”

Wirt cleared his throat, uncertain whether he was relieved or disappointed that Dipper was “ill-equipped” at this moment. With the image vividly in his mind - he already would never be able to sit at it the same again - he noted that he felt both very strongly. “But I- I also wasn’t implying that, like, right now, necessarily, either. Not that I wouldn’t want to, just that I wasn’t- that’s not what I meant. Oh gosh.” He blew out a steady stream of air to compose himself. “Can you tell it’s been a while since I’ve been… intimate with another person?”

“That's, uh, that's okay, trust me. It's been a long time for me. Like... I don't know. The last time I tried, it was a complete disaster.” Dipper's hands slipped into his back pockets. “So I'm honestly really torn between hitting my knees right now to see if I still know what I'm doing, and waiting until... until I'm sure that this isn't a fluke.”

“You’re not going to stop saying things like that anytime soon, are you?” Wirt unwound his arms from his shoulders to scrub at his face. “Is this payback for my pajama comment the other night? If it is, you win. You’re the winner. I know what my thoughts will be filled with for the rest of the day, and I’ll give you a hint it will have nothing to do with ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ or using vocabulary list number fourteen’s words in sentences. Except ‘undulate.’ Oh no. That’s one of the words. Why did I make _that_ one of the words? It didn’t seem sexual when I picked it but now-” His hands flailed helplessly before raking through his hair.

Hands still in his pockets, Dipper pressed him closer and couldn’t help the shiver when it became obvious that his teasing had an effect. His mind was tilting more and more towards hitting his knees. He was too cute, too sweet. A part of him wanted to muss that up. “How long’s it been since you had somebody... undulate under your hands?”

It was Wirt’s knees that trembled as heat pooled low in his belly, wavering between pressing back into the hands that kept him caught or forward into the man doing the catching and the keeping. His breath hitched, gaze captivated by Dipper’s as it darkened and he yearned to make it fog over with desire. Hands slipping between them, he placed his palms against his chest and stroked over his windbreaker, already able to envision the warm skin and firm muscle in wait beneath the layers.

“Too long,” he murmured, toying with the zipper, chancing a brief glimpse at it and his chest before pursing his lips and glancing back up. “And you?”

He stepped back, bringing Wirt with him until his back was against the whiteboard. “It’s been way too long since I got to undulate.” Teeth sinking into his lower lip, he rolled his hips forward. “Since you’re already going to be thinking about it all day anyway, maybe...”

“Maybe we could remedy that, too,” Wirt finished, pushing his hips into Dipper’s with a shallow rocking motion and a breathy, little sound. “I’m all for you being able to undulate.”

“Y-yeah?” His head pressed back against the board. A hand left his pocket to slip between them and undo the button of Wirt’s slacks. It was still fast, but he couldn’t get his mind off this man. Maybe this would help alleviate that. Knowing what he was up against, very literally at the moment, should help his wonderings. “I’m, um, I’m any kind of guy, too, and this is... Right now, this is definitely feeling right.”

“Okay.” Wirt swallowed, dragging his teeth over his lip as he drew the zipper of his jacket down to push it from his shoulders. “Yeah. It does. And even though… I don’t usually get to this point so early on… you somehow got me here and I can’t- I can’t ignore that. So if you want to, then I want to. I want to learn to read your body. Become fluent in you.” When his windbreaker fell to the floor, his hands dropped to unfasten the button of Dipper’s jeans, too.

“I don’t want to ignore it. I want your hands on me. It’s been so long since I wanted anyone.” He tugged at his zipper, palming him through his boxers before he lost his nerve and let out a low moan. Dipper tipped forward, nipping his neck. “Make me forget ever wanting anyone else.”

Electrified by his words, arousal allowed to light up and awaken, Wirt groaned softly and pushed the waistband of his pants down just enough to slip his hand between denim and boxers, fondling the heat he found waiting with curious fingertips. “Dipper,” he breathed, his name floating from his tongue like a revered prayer, his own hips jerking against the touch being offered. “After I’m through with you, you won’t want anyone else.” It was a promise, made as he tilted his head to claim his lips, sinking into it instantly, tongue coaxing them to part for him.

His lips parted on another moan, the sound an encouraging surrender. He'd never been one to be quiet, eager to vocalize his pleasure, to announce what he liked so it could be done again and again. He lifted to his toes, arching into the light touch, craving more. Wanting to give back, Dipper pushed boxers and pants low on Wirt's thighs and cupped his length. Tongue twisting over his boyfriend's - lover's, they were becoming lovers - his fingers kneaded and massaged, seeking the points that made the muscle he held throb.

The yearning in Wirt’s belly burned while needy gasps hitched in his chest. His length twitched and swelled under the attention, hips rocking unbidden. Dipper’s pants were shoved down to his knees, boxers quick to follow to bare his arousal. With a nip to his lower lip, Wirt broke the kiss only to catch a glimpse of him as he stroked along the underside before his fingers curled around him. As he pumped him slowly, eager to savor touching another, touching Dipper while being touched by him and encouraging his tantalizing sounds, he pinned him against the whiteboard with his free hand, holding fast to one hip.

Their gazes met, Dipper’s hazing over with desire. He writhed against the board, eagerly undulating under his touch. Whimpers spilled out, sentences half-formed as he let himself lose control, lose himself to Wirt. “Want you. Want you so much, yeah, yes. God, Wirt,” he moaned, fingers wrapping around his shaft and pumping. His thumb rubbed firm little circles against the tip, gaze dropping. Mouth watering, he licked his lips.

“Oh god, Dipper, that’s- _oh_.” Not typically as vocal as his lover, Wirt found his own moans tumbling from his lips as his hips jerked. The circles- his thumb- Dipper- it was maddening and his head was spinning in its own dizzying circles as he lost himself to it. “Want you, too. Feels so- feels so good. I can’t even- can’t even think… just want you.”

Wirt nipped at his earlobe, then pressed damp, hungry kisses along his jaw and down the column of his throat. He suckled over his pulse point, teeth and tongue teasing the skin there while Dipper’s need throbbed against his lips. Wirt moaned again, lapping and nibbling at his neck as his hand worked Dipper faster with sharp flicks of his wrist, palm rubbing over the hot, slick flesh.

Dipper wanted so badly to slide down and let his tongue follow the path of his fingers, but that could be next. There had to be a next. “Bite me, please, mark me. Come on.” His hips bucked, head falling back. “Babe, please.” His hand continued its desperate ministrations, free hand reaching up to tangle in his hair.

Teeth sank into skin, Wirt’s mouth eager to claim him. He bit and sucked and tugged until a deep, red color blossomed on his neck, too high to be hidden by anything other than a scarf. A mark that he was his. Wirt laved his tongue over the sting to soothe, purring his pleasure as he pulled back just enough to admire it and the flush of his skin. The dazed look in his eyes, the way his head fell back to bare his throat to him.

“Beautiful.” His thumb flicked over the head of Dipper’s shaft, rubbed right under it. “You’re beautiful, Dipper. Look at you. Oh my god.”

He bit his lip, then tugged at Wirt's hair to get him close enough to kiss. It was wet and nippy, full of need. He was embarrassingly close already, but couldn't bring himself to care. He wanted it, wanted Wirt with him. His dark eyes, clever hands. “Wirt,” he groaned, back braced against the board, knees weak. His hand left his hair to steal beneath his sweater to find the skin beneath it and the button-up. “Good. So good.”

Panting, Wirt arched into his touch, trying to press closer as his hips bucked. The slightest brush of skin on skin had him shivering, needing to rut and rub and writhe against him. His thigh slipped between Dipper’s, nudging them further apart, his free hand petting one thigh, his hip, up under his shirt, low on his stomach to feel him quiver as he did. “Yes, yeah, Dipper. Say my name again. Call for me. Touch me. Please.”

“Wirt!” he cried, rutting desperately against his thigh. His hand left his length to grasp his sweater to push it up and off, the shirt with it to bare his skin to his questing fingers. “Oh, god, Wirt, so pretty. You're gorgeous.” His hands grasped his shoulders, kneading his way down his chest.

Letting Dipper find friction with his thigh, Wirt tugged his shirt over his head, knocking his cap from his head. His palms flush against his chest, skimming his skin with no other need than to feel him undulate under his hands. Yes, this was better. More of them touching, moving together. Their rhythm didn’t match, both so far gone and desperate, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except heightening the pleasure they were feeling, sending them over the edge. Wirt gripped his waist with both hands, pulling him against him as his hips rolled forward, fast and firm.

Dipper cried out again, Wirt's name spilling from his lips as he rocked against him. “Good, please, so good. Wirt, you feel so-” Moaning, letting him lead, Dipper wrapped his arms around his shoulders, blunt nails raking across his back as their shafts brushed together. There was no one else in his mind, body aflame for one person. Hands eagerly grasping for one person. “Wirt, Wirt, please...!”

“Yes. Yes, Dipper- Dipper!”

Wirt couldn’t stop. He pulled his hips closer, lengths dragging against one another faster, the frantic energy sparking under their skin, in his gut, hot and pulsing and so close. He bent Dipper back, keeping his back pressed to the whiteboard, nowhere for him to writhe except against his chest as they reached their peak together. Wirt’s moaning reduced to helpless babbling as he couldn’t stop it.

He was too close and it had been too long and Dipper was too much. His name in that wrecked voice as he pleaded for him was like a drug that dragged him right over the edge. “ _Dipper_ -!” he choked out, hips spasming as his release burst from him, mind completely lost to the sensations as he rocked through it.

“Wirt!” was the answering echo, Dipper going over with him. Clinging to his shoulders, hips still moving against him as he came. His world had narrowed to the single moment, caught up in a new lover. Perhaps it was only because it had been such a long time since he'd been with someone but, like that first dizzying kiss, it had never been like this before. He'd never needed or wanted no barriers quite that urgently. He'd never been one to lose himself so completely with someone, especially not the first time with them. His trust always had to be earned, yet he'd given Wirt that gift freely.

“Wow.”

Dipper left his hands where they were as he came down from the high, slowly halting his movements as his energy drained. Sighing, happily caught between Wirt and the whiteboard, he let himself relax. “So... wow. Hm.”

“Yeah,” Wirt exhaled, slumping against him as his thumbs rubbed slow circles into his hips. “That was… definitely wow.” He, too, had never given himself up so completely so quickly. Or ever, really.

Despite having had other intimate relationships, he hadn’t been lying when he said Dipper made him feel different, feel safe. Dipper made him feel wanted, the scratches stinging his back proof of how much he’d wanted him in the heat of the moment. Just like the mark on Dipper’s neck was his proof of the same. Wirt ducked his head to brush his lips against it.

“Uh-huh.” Dipper shivered, the hickey a pleasant sting. Good god, Wirt hadn't even hesitated to claim him. “Gotta... gotta be to kill the vocab of two guys who live by words.” His eyes closed, arms wrapping around his neck again to hold on. Just long enough to brush their lips together and smile. “And, um, the door isn't exactly locked. I wasn't expecting wow.”

“Mmhm.” Wirt pressed his lips to Dipper’s again, tugging gently on his lower lip before the words registered and heavy, half-lidded eyes opened wide. “Wha- _oh_. Just- uh. Just hang on. One second.”

He stumbled more than stepped back, hiking his pants up just enough to cross the room and flip the lock. The blinds, too, they were also open, but at least the window didn’t have a very good view of the whiteboard. Still, he fiddled with them until they were closed, a shaky sigh of relief escaping him.

“Sorry. Should’ve thought of that earlier. I mean, people don’t tend to just walk in during third period because they’ve got other places to be, but still...” Wirt glanced sheepishly at Dipper, heart pounding heavily at the sight of him still mussed and blissed out and beautiful. “Still, uh… I forgot where I was going with that. You’re gorgeous.”

Dipper's laugh was breathless, his stretch lazy before he hiked his jeans back up. “Yeah? So are you. And I'm so not done with you yet, by the way.”

“You’re- you’re not?” Wirt ran his tongue over his lips, gaze fixated on where the waistband rested against his skin, on the shallow dips and curves of his stomach and their combined release still staining him just as it surely did for him as well. Slowly, he lifted it to catch his eye.

“Mm-mm. So not. Just still processing what just happened.” His grin flashed, satisfied and smug. “And maybe admiring the mess I made of my beautiful boyfriend.”

Wirt raked his clean hand through his hair, belly filled with a steady, coiling warmth. He took a few slow, casual steps back towards him, cheeks dusted with pink as his hands dropped to toy with his belt loops. “Feel free to admire all you like,” he told him as nonchalantly as possible. “I certainly am.”

“Oh my god. How are you still so cute? So I was thinking - right now, I just now thought of this.” He took his own step forward, reaching for him. Dipper cupped his cheeks, thumbs stroking gently beneath his eyes. “You ever been to Northwest's?”

“Mm-mm.” Wirt shook his head slightly, eyelids lowering at the soft touch, and his arms encircled his waist. “Not with my teacher’s salary and no one to really go with. Why? What are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking you're definitely the type of guy who owns a suit, and I'm thinking I still want to go out with you tonight to celebrate.” Dipper brushed their lips together once, twice. He sank in for the third, coaxing. “Doing anything tonight around seven?”

“Not unless it’s with you,” he murmured against his lips as his fingertips stroked his back, exploring this new expanse of skin available to him. The corners of his mouth quirked up. “So celebrating with you in suits at Northwest’s at seven? Wait- don’t you need reservations or something way in advance?” Brow furrowing, he eased back a little to consider his face.

“Normally.” Unable to shrug properly, Dipper let his grin turn sheepish. “I know someone who can get us in. Just trust me.”

Wirt lifted an eyebrow. “Wow. Didn’t think I’d ever meet someone who could actually pull off that line. Though I also didn’t think I’d ever meet someone who could pull off flannel and baseball caps and look extremely attractive while doing so, so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised when it comes to you.”

“Well, I'm not trying to show off or anything. We could go somewhere else if you want?”

“No, it’s fine. This is your celebration. It’s not every day you finish a book, right? Besides, when am I going to get another opportunity to have dinner at a place like Northwest’s with a stunning boyfriend such as yourself?” he teased, nipping at his lower lip. “I’d like to go with you. Yeah.”

“Okay. I'll shoot her a text when I leave since her highness doesn't normally wake up before noon. For now...” Dipper hooked his arms over his shoulders, stepping back and tugging Wirt along with him. “I'm thinking I should take care of my mess. What do you think?”

“Well, I…” Wirt swallowed as he went willingly. “I think it might be in my… best interest to let you.”

“Yeah, I think so. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you to teach the rest of your classes with all this under your clothes?” Grinning, he trailed a finger down Wirt's chest, tapped the waistband of his slacks. Both hands dropped to hook into his belt loops. “Since I'm the thorough sort, shoes off.”

Wirt shuffled his feet, lips pursed against the pleasant shiver something as simple as “thorough” inspired. He stepped on the heels of his shoes, nudging them aside once they came loose. His heart skipped a beat at the very sudden realization that if this was going where he thought it was going, he was about to be very naked or close enough to it in the middle of his classroom, of all places. It certainly wasn’t what he expected when he walked into work this morning.

Dipper led him closer to his desk, nibbling on his lips. “You're really not gonna want pants either,” he murmured, pushing them down his thighs. Humming, his stroked low on his abdomen and tugged on his boxers. “Not these either.” They followed his slacks, fingertips brushing his length. “Step out of those.”

“You’re a pretty demanding lover,” Wirt exhaled, voice quivering as his breath hitched, but he did as he was told, curious enough to see where this would go and enticed enough to want whatever it was. The flush staining his cheeks started to spread, creeping down his neck at being exposed under Dipper’s scrutiny. He fought not to cover himself or shy away, meeting his gaze straight on. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Just, uh...” He lost the train of thought, plans briefly skipping out of his mind as his normally very covered boyfriend was bared for him. “God, you've got legs forever, don't you?” Cupping his hips, Dipper lifted up and pressed their lips together. “You're gorgeous and all mine.”

Both compliment and claim had Wirt squirming against him, his lips seeking a deeper kiss as he framed Dipper’s face with his hands. His fingers brushed the curls normally covered by his hat, a contented sigh slipping from him as he let them sink into his hair. He rolled his hips under his hands, half-hard length grazing denim as his need was slowly rekindled.

One hand slipped between them, cupping Wirt's length. He continued to knead as the kiss ended, nearly bumping into his desk. “Sit.”

Pressing his lips together against the moan threatening to spill out, Wirt glanced back for his desk chair. Hands falling from Dipper’s hair, he reached for it with one hand. The other purposefully palmed his boyfriend in return before pulling away from him to sit back in the black, leather-like desk chair.

“A gorgeous, good listener.” So tempted to settle into his lap and grind one another to completion again, Dipper nudged Wirt's legs apart and stood between them. His mouth found his neck, tongue gliding down the column. “I'm gonna lick you clean, and then I'm gonna keep on licking.” Dipper rubbed the pad of his thumb to the head of his length. “All you have to do now is enjoy. Sound good?”

He couldn’t smother this moan, lips falling open with it as his head fell back in surrender while arousal flared, hot and bright. “Yes,” Wirt gasped, hips lifting from his seat and hands skimming his sides. “Oh my god, Dipper.”

His teeth grazed over his lover's shoulder. “What'd you say? When you were through with me, I wouldn't want anyone else? My turn.” Dipper kissed lower, tongue and teeth teasing warm skin as he went. His lips closed around a nipple, tongue swirling around the bud. “I want to hear your sounds. Let me hear what you like,” he murmured against his skin, kissing to the other nipple to suck wetly.

“That- I- yeah, that’s-” Wirt gripped Dipper’s shoulder with one hand, the other tangling in his hair as he arched into the warm, wet of his mouth on a shaky moan. “ _That_.”

Dipper lingered at his chest, lips curving against his skin, but he had bigger plans. His fingers curled around Wirt's length, pumping lazily. He pressed wet kisses downwards, tongue taking over when he reached the streaky mess on his abdomen. Thick, wet licks cleaned him, claimed him, making him all too well aware that he was closer to getting his mouth where they both really wanted it.

Stomach quivering, Wirt tried not to slide down in the seat or make the chair roll away from Dipper or his mouth or his hand. With each lazy pump and firm lap of his tongue more of his mind slipped away, the haze of lust hanging over him thick and heavy and throbbing in his length. He spread his legs, planting his feet to keep the chair in place, and rocked into his hand with a pleading, little noise.

“Almost,” Dipper purred. “Almost there.” Lowering fully to his knees, he used his free hand to grasp one of the legs to help keep the chair steady. The other fell from his cock, a shiver running deliciously down his spine when he was low enough to feel it brush his throat.

The moment he could, satisfied by the cleanliness of Wirt's skin, he ducked his head and slid his tongue from base to tip. “Mm.” He licked his lips, savoring the lingering taste, and flicked his gaze upwards. He licked his lips again, entranced by the desire he saw in darkened eyes, the way his flush traveled so prettily from his cheeks to seep into his chest as though his pleasure was too much to contain in one place. Oh, Wirt had kept his promise well. Dipper wanted no one else. He'd make sure this beautiful man felt the same. Leaving his gaze locked onto Wirt's, Dipper wrapped his lips around his tip and suckled.

“Ah-!” An embarrassing, breathy moan burst from him as his fingers tightened in Dipper’s hair and his toes curled. His other hand left his shoulder, ready to cover his mouth, but he froze halfway. _I want to hear your sounds. Let me hear what you like._ Wirt dragged his hand through his own hair instead, licking his lips as he watched Dipper’s surround the head of his length, pleasure spiking at that single point and flowing through his veins. Another encouraging sound slipped out while his blunt fingernails raked over his lover’s scalp. He couldn’t remember the last time someone got down on their knees for him, but even if he could he knew it wouldn’t hold a candle to this right here. His hips and thighs quivered from the little pulls of his lips, the hand from his own hair falling to grip the arm of his chair to keep from seeking more, faster, _more_.

Humming, Dipper eased lower. His tongue rubbed along the underside of his length, the heady weight distantly familiar but brand new. He knew the mechanics, but wanted to learn what was specific to Wirt. He wanted to know exactly what would draw out those moans, exactly what would pull him over the edge. His fingers pet his thighs, feeling them tremble. Immeasurably pleased, his head began to bob, taking more of his length in with every downward slide.

Wirt’s head fell back, muscles warring between tensing and relaxing as he rolled through sensations of hot and wet and good. “So good,” he murmured, breath hitching as Dipper’s tongue flicked and pressed against him. “Oh my god- yeah, that’s- Dipper, you’re so _good_.” Struggling to keep his eyes from closing, he blinked sluggishly as he tilted his head to keep him in his sight. Lips swollen and slick and gaze all too pleased with himself, just looking at Dipper had heat writhing low in his gut.

Encouraged by the praise, by the fingers in his hair, Dipper relaxed his throat and took him to the hilt. He took a moment, eyes closing as he licked and sucked firmly enough to hollow his cheeks. He'd forgotten how much he'd enjoyed this, pleasuring his lover in a way that managed to be both submissive and dominant.

Dipper looked up, his gaze and head both lifting. His tongue twisted over the slit, lapping at what was already spilling from him. “You can move. Want you to. I can handle it.” On a low moan, shifting a bit since his own arousal was pulsing and trapped in his jeans, he wrapped his lips around him again and slid down.

Pulsing with pleasure, Wirt babbled helplessly in response. His thighs twitched, his flush deepened, and his cock throbbed in Dipper’s mouth. Already oversensitized from his first release, he needed no other encouragement to start rocking into the tantalizing heat and slickness his lover offered him for some relief. Quavering moans fell from him as he was taken in deep, each hum sending the most maddening vibrations through him. He tugged on his hair, fingers tangled in the strands, as he held his head in place, needing him to stay, stop, stay, don’t stop. He was nearly at his peak, legs spread wide and breaths shallow, rapidly losing the fight to the high of drugging sensation.

“Dip- Dipper, I’m- you should- should stop, I’m gonna- You’re gonna make me- oh god, I can’t-”

Unable to tell him it was okay, unwilling to lift his head, Dipper lifted a hand from his thigh, caressing his abdomen. He kept his head moving in time with Wirt’s shallow thrusts, busy tongue flicking over every bit of sensitive skin that it could reach.

Wirt shuddered, back arching and stomach muscles tightening, and he let go of the chair’s arm to grasp Dipper’s shoulder instead, to cling to him as he was dragged over the edge. With a sharp cry of his name, he came hard in his mouth, hips jerking out of rhythm, desperate for his tongue, lips, throat, Dipper, everything Dipper Pines.

Swallowing greedily, Dipper drank him down. The hand on his stomach went from encouraging to soothing as his orgasm ebbed and he slowly lifted his head, Wirt’s cock slipping from his mouth on a wet noise. Panting, Dipper tilted his head back to watch him come down from it. “You’re so pretty, Wirt. Oh my god.”

Wirt whimpered softly, trembling as he leaned back in his chair. “Dipper…” Eyelids heavy, all of him heavy and warm and thoroughly sated, he forced them open to gaze down at him, shivering at the way his lips glistened. “Oh god… I don’t know how I’m going to teach the rest of my classes now. You’re incredible. So freaking incredible. Come here.” He tugged once more on his hair before easing his grip and letting his hand slide from it.

“Just, y’know, put on a video. They’ll be thrilled.” His voice was ragged, throat pleasantly abused and need still coursing through him. Rising, Dipper straddled his lap, pushing his clothes down just enough to free himself. “Not gonna stay clean long,” he breathed, rutting against his belly and burying his face into the curve of Wirt’s neck. Without warning, his teeth sank in to begin leaving a mark to match the one on his own neck.

His response was lost to a breathless groan, a full-bodied shudder wracking his satisfied, but sensitive body. “Dipper-” Wirt stroked along his spine, then down over the curve of his bottom to cup and squeeze the backs of his thighs, encouraging his grinding. He could already feel the dampness from his tip brushing low on his abdomen, so no, no he would not stay clean long. “It's okay, I want your mess. I want to make you a mess.” Wirt slipped his hand between them to knead and rub Dipper's length.

With a keening noise, Dipper laved his tongue over the forming bruise. Satisfied with his claim, his head tipped down, brow resting on his shoulder so he could watch those long fingers work his shaft. Already close, oversensitized from his first and eager for the next, he didn’t try to fight the pressure building in him. “Good. Good, yes, Wirt...” His head lifted again so his teeth could catch his earlobe. The teasing nibbles were cut off by soft mewls of pleasure that he was barely aware of, hands pawing at Wirt’s chest in seek of purchase, unable to be obtained on a surface slickened with sweat and his own tongue.

“That's it, Dipper. It's your turn to enjoy. To feel good,” Wirt murmured, swirling the pad of his thumb over his leaking slit, fingers pumping and stroking the rest of him to coax more of those needy little mewls from him. He lapped at Dipper's neck, teeth scraping gently over skin. “Just feel good.”

They grew in volume, head falling back to welcome and encourage his mouth. One hand finally found an anchor in his hair while the other pressed against his chest, rubbing uneven circles above his heart. “You- So-” He was so close, hips stuttering out of rhythm. Words were lost completely as he gave himself over to the sensations Wirt wrought, noises drenched in pure pleasure as he drew closer to the edge.

He was tumbling over soon enough, fingers flexing, back arching. The only coherent sound he managed was an outcry of his lover’s name as he came between them, release coating Wirt’s hand, their stomachs.

Soft praises were whispered against his skin as Wirt nuzzled and kissed the column of his throat, his hand continuing his even, steady strokes, milking his orgasm from him until he was spent and shaking. “God, you’re beautiful.” He rubbed his lips over the hickey he’d left for him the last time, petting his back lazily, keeping him close.

Dipper sighed, content to remain right where he was. Right where Wirt wanted him to be. His lips curved, sleepily lovestruck as he dropped his chin to his lover's shoulder. “You're amazing,” he purred.

With a warm chuckle, Wirt kissed the side of his head. “I try.” He slipped his hand from between them to reach for the box of tissues on his desk, cleaning it as best as he could without taking his other hand from him after lapping most of his release from his fingers. “You’re not half-bad yourself.”

“Mmhm.” He shifted, resting a cheek on his shoulder instead, drawing nonsensical patterns on his chest. “I gathered that from the very nice way you said my name when you came.”

“Mm,” Wirt hummed, tossing the tissue in the wastebasket under his desk once he was satisfied and wrapped both arms around Dipper for some snuggling. Just as it had been too long since he’d had sex, it had also been too long since he got to properly enjoy what came after. “Well, you had a very nice way of making me. Which I hope to return the favor for sometime soon.”

He wriggled against him like an affectionate kitten, intrigued by the thought. “Maybe later you’ll let me get you out of your suit and we can find out if we’re as good in actual bed as we are in here.”

“Maybe.” Wirt’s lips curved as he pressed them to his hair. “We were pretty good in here. Bet this was your plan all along though. Seduce the teacher and have hot, classroom sex.”

He laughed. “It really wasn’t, but I am so okay with it happening. Next time, though, definitely gonna be prepared enough for you to pin me to your desk.” He tilted his head, shifting again so their lips could brush. “Hot classroom sex, the sequel.”

“I’d read it.” Wirt approved, cheeks turning pink now that they were face-to-face. “I hope you’re happy that you’ve pretty much ruined this desk, this chair, the whiteboard- heck, I’ll never be able to walk into this classroom again without thinking of you and how you make me feel.”

Dipper’s smirk was smugly unapologetic. “How do I make you feel?”

A shape that might’ve been a heart was traced against his back as Wirt fought not to squirm beneath him, his gaze flicking between his smug lips and his eyes. “Enraptured,” he murmured honestly, using his finger to write out the word on his skin, the second following suit. “Spellbound. Stupid for not talking to you the second you moved in. We’d probably have the chronicles of hot classroom sex written by now if I had.”

“Most likely,” Dipper agreed, his own cheeks coloring. He hadn't expected the answer to stir his heart, so ducked his head to tuck it beneath his chin. “And I would probably be nowhere near finished with the book. You're impossible to ignore, were distracting enough as the attractive man who ran out of his apartment with shoes that didn't match as often as they matched. Hair sticking up every which way while impatient fingers tried to convince the strands to flatten. Eyes I could never quite see from my window or brief glances half-hooded from disrupted sleep.

“Now that I know you, it's worse.” He nuzzled his neck. “I know bits and pieces, but I feel like I've barely scratched your surface. I'm very greedy when it comes to my interests.”

“Mm, is that so?” Wirt leaned back and closed his eyes, enjoying the way Dipper fit against him in his lap and tempted to keep him through the rest of the day. “Better start finding ways to keep your interest piqued. You make me sound so compelling, I feel like I’m cheating you.”

“You have no idea. I mean it when I say you're interesting.” He shimmied in his lap, straightening to rest their brows together. “An uncompelling person would be shy or bold; you're both. An uncompelling person would come into this room for a paycheck; you don't.” He kissed him lightly. “I could keep going, but the bottom line is that you care, Wirt, and that alone makes you incredibly fascinating. I've met a lot of people who just don't care.”

Wirt’s arms tightened around him as he opened his eyes. “I’ve tried not caring. The world is infinitely bleaker when you don’t care. Even if it hurts, I’d rather care. I can’t say whether that makes me compelling or fascinating as a person, but it does make me feel… alive. If that makes sense.” He pursed his lips as he considered his own words.

“It does, yeah. I tried the whole not caring thing for a while when I was a teen. I was a big target for bullies and a loner anyway, so it made sense to just... totally withdraw. But then summer rolled around and not caring didn't work here. What friends I had were here. So I realized that withdrawing from everything was empty.”

Dipper shrugged, nibbling on Wirt's lips. “I'd rather be the kind of guy who cares, and I'd really rather be around the kind of people who are decent enough to, say, offer to teach somebody to cook so they don't get kicked out of their homes.”

“Lucky for me then that you decided to be the kind of guy who cares and thought my offer to be decent and not creepy or invasive.” Hand coming up to cup the back of Dipper’s head, Wirt drew him in for a deep kiss, all slow and languid and maybe a little bit soothing for the teenager who felt he had to withdraw.

Dipper melted into it, eyes closing on a pleased murmur. Perhaps from anyone else the offer would have been odd, but not from him. Something had been drawing him towards this man from the first time he’d seen him in the hallway of their complex, and the pull was no less now. He was wary of tugging that thread, heart fluttering dangerously, so let his mind empty and the kiss spin out.

Until the bell ringing startled him. “Oh my- _Geez_. Was not ready for that.” He laughed, sitting up enough to grin at Wirt. “I don't miss hearing that at all.”

“I’m particularly fond of that bell. It means time for food.” Wirt smiled back, his own laugh soft as he patted Dipper’s side. “The last bell of the day is also a good one. Any other bell goes off and I’ll immediately go into lecture mode after about five minutes. They’ve conditioned me well.”

“Two years’ll do that. You still gonna put a sign out or you think a locked door and closed blinds will be enough to keep the hounds at bay?”

“Definitely putting up a sign.” Wirt dropped a kiss to his shoulder, then another, peppering a small trail of them to his neck. “They won’t be able to get in, but we’d have to endure five to ten minutes’ worth of confused knocking.”

“Okay.” Dipper wriggled, absolutely delighted by the smattering of kisses. He soaked up affection like a sponge, a giggle half-spilling out before he bit it back. “I guess, mm, I should probably move then.”

“Mm.” Wirt bobbed his head in what was supposed to be a nod, but his hands kept a hold of his wiggling waist as his lips continued to brush the skin made available to him, pleased by his reaction. “Mmhm. Yeah. In a minute.”

“If we get subjected to confused knocking because you’re playing around, it’s not my fault.” He bit into his knuckle, muffling the giggles. As shameless as he was during sex, this was nothing but mortifying.

“Playing around?” That got Wirt’s attention, his lips leaving his shoulder so he could lift his chin as he scoffed, fighting the smile that wanted to spread as he took in his giddy lover. “Excuse you, I’m being completely serious in my affections for you. This isn’t a game. This isn’t some joke,” he teased, squeezing his sides in a manner that was all play.

Eyes bright, Dipper shook his head. “Completely serious? Not from where I’m sitting.” Wirt was just too cute, too sweet. Even with his hair mussed by his hands, a hickey prominent on his neck, and entirely naked beneath him, an innocent word like “cute” stuck out. How? Why was this man so different so fast?

Wirt squeezed him again and stuck his tongue out. “Fine. Maybe you should change seats then.”

Dipper leaned forward, unable to resist nipping his lower lip. “Aw, but, babe, I really like this one.”

“‘Babe?’” Wirt echoed, cheeks warming and stomach fluttering, recalling the little slip of a petname in the heat of the moment. All the same, he struggled to maintain a poker face as he lifted an eyebrow. “I think you might’ve been exposed to high school for too long, Dipper. Their vocabulary is infecting you.”

It had been meant just for play, but the blush sealed it. “I think, as somebody who grew up in California, I need to have at least one boyfriend whose petname is babe, and you just so happen to fit the bill perfectly.”

“What? Pfft. No I don’t,” he snorted, but the color in his cheeks didn’t fade.

“As I’m obviously better acquainted with California slang, I think I’m the best judge here. It’s like a science.” Dipper rubbed their noses together, grinning when Wirt’s scrunched automatically. “Mmhm. Preliminary results are in, man, and you’re a total babe.”

“I think your judgment is skewed and your opinion biased.” Wirt nipped at his lower lip. “Now go find a new, temporary seat. I’ve got a sign to make and you’re kinda in the way.”

“There are worse things to be,” he mused, but gave Wirt a final, firm kiss before shimmying out of his lap. He hiked his jeans back up, content to leave them undone as he forewent sitting to wander the portable. He laughed at the section of wall with artwork of varying degrees of talent. “Oh my god, you’re one of _those_ teachers. The art project things always embarrassed me.”

Mopping up his stomach the best he could before tugging his boxers and slacks back up, Wirt shook his head and laughed. “Hey, I give them the option to use whatever medium of visual expression they want. Collages and photography included. It’s not just to make fun of the kids who can’t draw. Believe me, I hated doing those, too, but we needed to do something to get the creative juices flowing.” As he said this, Wirt pulled a blank sheet of white printer paper from a drawer in his desk along with a dark blue marker. He quickly scribbled: _Out to lunch with the arsonist, serial killer-wanna-be. Make of that what you will. If you need to talk to me, see me after class._ then fixed the four corners with folded squares of tape.

Dipper had already moved on to the section of packed bookshelves, running his finger along the spines. Some were more worn than others, titles buried in creases. It thrilled him to no end to see copies of his work among them. All three of them nowhere near each other, as haphazard as the rest. He grabbed the first one, flipping to a random chapter. “I didn’t hate them because I was scared of being made fun of. It was... other factors.”

He wandered back over, leaning against the wall while Wirt quickly hung the page onto his door and waited for him to lock it again before turning the book his way and poking the _D. Pines_ etched onto the blurb of art above the chapter title. “I never minded the work itself.”

Wirt’s eyes rounded, then held his hand out for the copy as if getting a closer look at the image printed on the page would somehow aid him in this realization. “You write these books _and_ do your own art for them? Oh my gosh, you’re absolutely amazing. Boy, to be skilled in both… that’s a gift.” Wirt brushed his thumb over the drawing, then lifted his gaze to find Dipper’s. “What were the other factors? I mean, your stuff is obviously good. The kids in my classes would be all over trying to bribe you into doing their work for them.”

He shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets. He never talked about things like this, not with anyone. But the words wanted out. “Mabel’s an artist. Like she’s beyond amazing and always has been. She was always encouraged to do it, to get better at drawing, painting, design. If you gave her an hour, she’d learn how to blow glass. But she’s a girl and girls are supposed to gravitate towards things that are pretty and art is pretty.

“As the boy, I’m supposed to like science and math and other stereotypical boy things. Art’s not in that category. Writing’s not either. So anytime my dad caught me doing either, he’d get the Disappointment Line. Just this wrinkle right between his eyebrows. It didn’t matter if it was for school. And it didn’t help that I actually _am_ good at science and stuff. That just proved his point, as far as he was concerned.”

Wirt’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead, carefully closing his book. “Wow. I mean, I get that that happens and I’m no stranger to disappointed parents, but… I don’t know. I don’t understand why a parent wouldn’t want to encourage their children’s talents just because of some societal norm that has no logical basis whatsoever.” Tapping the binding of the book against his palm, concerned curiosity flickered in his gaze. “How does he feel about it now that you’re a best-seller? Any different?”

“Everytime one comes out, he asks me if I’m done playing and ready to join the workforce like a proper adult.” Dipper’s smile was resigned. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to like it.” Wirt pursed his lips, then set the book down on one of the student’s desks before wrapping his arms around his boyfriend, tucking him against his chest. “When you’re supporting him in his retirement, you can rub it in his face that you’re doing it with all your improper, non-workforce-earned money.”

The smile warmed, Dipper returning the embrace and absorbing the comfort. He’d expected to feel needy and pathetic, was awed to feel neither. Support, encouragement - given without question - that was the surprise. He pressed a kiss over Wirt’s heart. “Vindictive. I like it.”

“Yeah?” Wirt huffed out a small laugh into his hair as he nuzzled it, then pulled back to cup Dipper’s chin and tilt his head up for a kiss. “Good thing, too. I’m quite skilled in the art of passive-aggressive vindictivity. Or so I’ve been told.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. It’s all part of that secret sass you’ve got.” He drew him into a second kiss, this one lighter. “By the way, please don’t start thinking I’m pitiful just because I have stupid issues with my dad.”

“C’mon. No way. It’s not like I don’t have my own issues with my dad. I get it. It’s something that sucks, yeah, but… we deal with it.” He offered him a smile, this one all sincerity. “I don’t think you’re pitiful. If anything I think you’re strong for deciding to do what you want and heck to what anybody else thinks.”

“Nah. I’m just a stubborn brat. I mean, the only reason I’m doing the art for the books is because the original person they actually hired to do it wasn’t getting them right. So I grabbed her character sheet, scribbled out the mess she’d tried to make of Maalik and drew him how I wanted him and my publicist threw up her hands and told me if I was going to be difficult, I could do it myself.” He grinned, fending off the melancholy. “I’m very difficult.”

“Alright, then I’ll amend my previous statement. I don’t have a strong boyfriend that stands by his convictions. I have a stubborn brat of a boyfriend that likes to be difficult.” Wirt rubbed their noses together. “Good thing I like a challenge. Difficult sounds fun.”

“I’ll do my best.” His grin shifted into a smirk. “Babe.”

“Okay. First challenge is going to be finding you something else to call me, because I’m not going to be ‘babe.’”

“Too late. It’s your petname, and you will learn to love it.” Dipper snickered, pleased with himself. “Bet your brother’ll get a kick out of it. ‘Babe, pass me the mashed potatoes, babe.’”

“No. No, absolutely not. I forbid it.” Wirt shook his head, his attempt to look stern failing as a grin pulled at his lips.

“But, babe, you’re so pretty and sweet.” Dipper nuzzled his neck, tongue flicking teasingly over the mark he’d left. “You wouldn’t say no to me.”

Wirt laughed, tucking his chin in and ducking away. “Oh yeah? Just watch me. No.” He rubbed the bruised skin as he waggled his eyebrows. “I think you’re overestimating how sweet I can be.”

He shook his head, honesty shimmering through the playful tone. “I really don’t think I am.” Dipper cupped his hips, lifting up to his toes to nibble on his earlobe. “You’d have better luck coming up with something stupid to call me. I’ve been told that I’m impossible in that regard, so it might be interesting to see.”

“I think I can manage both.” Wirt’s hands skimmed his sides. “Or I’ll try to, at any rate. I’m stubborn, too, and as an older brother I’m pretty good at redirection.”

“Mm-mm. Babe’s staying. Precious and important like baby would be, but just a little bit of a bite.” Dipper nodded to himself, then swayed forward, relishing the feel of someone’s hands on his skin. Wirt’s hands, warm and steadily becoming familiar.

“Mm, you do like a bit of bite, don’t you?” Wirt ducked his head to nip at the hickey on his neck. “What if I reward you for each time you refrain from using ‘babe?’ Condition it out of you?”

“You’d have to know every time I didn’t use it, and that’s on the impossible side. Plus, I would probably just lie about it when I felt like getting rewarded and call you babe anyway.” Dipper turned his head, brushing a kiss to his temple. “If you really wanted to try, though, I’m on board.”

“Pretty sure I’m on board to try, too. Even if it is a futile endeavor.” Wirt reciprocated with a kiss to the tip of his nose. “But that can wait for after lunch. Come on, I’ll split what I brought with you. Peanut butter sandwiches sound good?”

“Yeah. Sounds great, babe.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Classroom sex! Because how else are you gonna end a dry spell? :D   
> Also Dipper the writing artist c:  
> Also also guess who his in is at Northwest's, lol


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suit porn ahead! And more teacher!Wirt <3

Surprisingly enough, especially given the fact that fourth period was the class reserved for the school newspaper and for kids so interested in “the scoop” he’d been banking on something from them, Wirt only had to put up with stares from the two classes immediately after lunch. Staring, as prickly and nervous as it made him feel, was fine. He knew why they were staring, they knew why they were staring, it was a mutual agreement that no one speak of.

If only his sixth period class got the memo.

“Mr. Palmer’s got a hickey!”

“Mr. Palmer, oh my god, _how_?”

“What do you mean ‘how?’ There’s only one way to get a hickey, Pamela.”

“I know _that_. I just didn’t know that adults got things like hickies.”

“Believe it or not, Pamela, kissing is not an activity that’s exclusive to your generation.” Wirt pinched the bridge of his nose, ears still ringing from the high-pitched gasps and guffaws that had greeted him not five seconds after his more talkative students filed into the room.

“Oooh, Mr. Palmer’s been kissing someone. Who were you kissing, Mr. Palmer?”

“A person,” Wirt replied, sliding around his desk to lean against it as the last of the teenagers squeezed into their seats, all of them watching with expectant, curious eyes as if they were preschoolers at circle time.

“What kind of person?”

“A person with lips.” Wirt rubbed at the mark, lips pursed as the kids alternated between groaning at his response and giggling. “Okay, everyone, pass in your vocab homework and then we’ll wrap up our discussion on chapter fifteen from yesterday-”

“Or we could discuss who you were making out with instead,” Tim called out, hands cupped around his mouth.

Wirt raised his eyebrow at him, willing the color away from his cheeks as he cleared his throat and ignored the coos his blush inspired from Pamela, Nicole, and Tara. “No.”

“Is it the arsonist? Like, what did that sign even mean? Is it another inside joke between you and second period?”

“None of your business. None of your business. Yes.” Wirt collected the stack of binder paper from the front row.

“Mr. Palmer, you should be careful getting involved with an arsonist. What if they burned down your house or something?”

“Well, he hasn’t yet, so I think we’ll be okay. But if he does, then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Wirt tapped the stack against his desk, then placed a ceramic, frog paperweight on top of the papers as he faced the students with a placating gesture. “Now I know it’s Friday and I know you’re all reeling from that fact that yes, I am capable of making out with someone just as much as any of you are, but can you all humor me for an hour and pretend that the story behind Mr. Palmer’s hickey is not more interesting than ‘To Kill a Mockingbird?’”

“No,” every single one of them chorused and he sighed heavily.

It was a long sixth period.

It was made even longer by the fact that he stayed an extra forty-five minutes after the bell to make good on his sign’s promise, most of his after-school drop-ins being from the second period class, eager to hear more about the arsonist. Of course, the mark on his neck said more than anything, especially considering that he didn’t have a hickey during second period. A small group of his ‘well-behaved’ students delighted in this, their eyes lighting up with a collective realization.

“It was the guy we saw hanging around outside the classroom, wasn’t it? With the baseball cap.”

“That makes him sound creepy. I’m sure he wasn’t just ‘hanging around outside the classroom,’” was all Wirt replied with, but it was enough.

“I can’t believe Veronica and Dale’s ship is canon. You’re seriously dating the arsonist.”

“The arsonist is my boyfriend, yes. If nobody has actual, English-related questions to ask me, then I’m just going to leave because I’ve got a date with my arsonist boyfriend tonight and I have to go to the store first, then make sure my suit still fits.”

Wirt managed to herd them all out of the classroom and lock up for the weekend just before four. At least most of the school traffic had dissipated for the day by that point. Still, he wasn’t sure if it outweighed the fact that his cheeks were most likely permanently stained red. Teenagers were too nosy for their own good. It wasn’t even that the questions had been all that invasive or inappropriate - well, a couple were inappropriate, but he didn’t expect anything less from Tim and his friends - but all the attention on a personal part of his life that he was still getting used to being able to enjoy flustered him. It didn’t help that he was still very aware that he and Dipper had engaged in very satisfying, hot, classroom sex only hours before and on his way to pick up some essentials for future satisfying, hot, classroom sex. Anytime sex.

It was totally worth it, but still incredibly flustering.

Despite being a teacher and having to stand in front of kids and lecture for the better part of the day, Wirt was not a fan of attention. Well, attention in excess. He’d always been a wallflower of sorts, quietly, unobtrusively skating by in life and making his presence known selectively. Teaching was different from discussing personal details of his life, and while he didn’t mind sharing the occasional story about what was going on in his daily life with his students, he’d yet to be in a romantic relationship while teaching at Langtree. His last relationship had been while he’d been a substitute and students never badgered subs for their life story. Not to mention his last relationship hadn’t been… something he’d wanted to share. Most of his past relationships weren’t exactly things he wanted to share with anyone.

He supposed it said a lot about his relationship with Dipper that he was ready and willing to share it with anyone who was willing to listen. Where there had been reservations with past boyfriends, there was only eager acceptance with Dipper and the hope that his family and friends would just as easily accept him. Maybe that was why he hadn’t bothered trying to hide the hickey with his scarf.

As Wirt parked in his spot, gathering his satchel, a bag from the drugstore, and coat from the car before leaving the warmth of it for the brisk chill outside, he glanced up towards their floor, gaze drawn to Dipper’s window. Even though he’d just seen him, and would see him again shortly, Wirt’s heart fluttered with anticipation and the quiet thrill that he might see him. Oh gosh, he was smitten with this man, and the thought didn’t even frighten him.

He closed the door of his car a little louder than normal, uncertain if the sound would carry, but figured it couldn’t hurt to try in case his boyfriend was awake. He’d urged him to take a well-deserved nap before he’d left him with a kiss that tasted of peanut butter and honey. With their date ahead of them, he hoped he was either sleeping or had managed to get some in the time they’d spent apart.

Dipper popped into the open window's frame, still very shirtless as he'd only been awake a few short minutes. The first thing he'd done was look out his window to seek his boyfriend's car, and he'd been surprised and, admittedly, a little concerned to not see the hatchback right away. So he'd left the window open and stayed close to it with his sketchbook, hoping to hear him.

Which was ridiculous. Wirt was a grown man, entirely capable of taking care of himself. And teachers stayed after hours all the time. Wirt stayed after hours all the time. They were dating and, as he'd been reminded by more than one boyfriend in the past, that didn't give him license to worry. Overprotective wasn't attractive.

Still, it was with relief that he lifted a hand to wave, covering a yawn with the other.

Tugging the strap of his satchel over his shoulder, Wirt smiled up at him and waved back. “Just going to bed or just getting up?” he called out, gaze skimming over his bare collarbone as he hugged his coat to his chest.

“I'm up. Just working.” He picked up the sketchbook, holding it high enough for Wirt to see. “But it's really cold to be doing this. Wanna put your stuff down and come invade my space for a little while?”

“Sure. I’ve got reactions to share with you. Close your window so your crazy, shirtless self doesn’t freeze and give me a minute.” Wirt waited for him to slide the glass pane shut before hurrying into the building for its warmth.

It took a bit longer than a minute. After setting his things down in the living room and dropping the incriminating plastic bag off on his bed with a dark blush, Wirt slipped into the kitchen and made up two mugs of hot chocolate. Fingers curled around both handles, he carried them across the across the hall and tapped the knuckles of his free hand against the door, then shifted the mugs to both hands for added stability.

“Come- wait.” It was a few more seconds before the door was opened. “I forgot to actually unlock the- oh. You wouldn't have been able to open it anyway.” He took advantage of his full hands to bob up to press a warm kiss to his lips.

Then he took a mug, backing into his apartment, holding the door open with his back. “Hot chocolate? I was wondering if you'd somehow gotten lost.”

“Well, you do live so far away. I had to catch a flight and everything,” Wirt chuckled as he stepped inside. “I just felt like making some and figured while I was at it I could, you know, make you some, too.”

“Thanks. I haven’t had any in a long time.” Dipper took a sip, humming as he closed the door behind Wirt. “A lot of thanks. It’s good.” He gestured towards the living room. He’d migrated his work, laptop open on the coffee table, surrounded by papers. His sketchbook was still where he’d dropped it on the couch, his glasses on the open page. “Sit wherever. I’ve got the recliner since Mabel claimed one was necessary or, y’know, you can snuggle on the couch with me. Which is where my vote is, if you’re wondering.”

“What a coincidence. So’s mine. That makes it unanimous.” Wirt smiled at him over the rim of his mug. He took a glance at the sketchbook as he settled down, lips quirking at the sight of the glasses before he skimmed the pencil lines on the paper. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Yeah. By the time I got home, I was basically tripping over my own feet. So I took a record breakingly fast shower and dropped. Woke up to emails and missed calls trying to nail my deadline for the art, and I’ve elected to ignore them until tomorrow.” He set his mug on the table, gathering the book and pencil as he sat beside his boyfriend. His glasses were pushed on so he could keep working as they talked. “How was the exciting world of high school after I left?”

“I was tempted to stage some kind of escape sixth period. We’re going to have to play catch up in that class since they spent half the period in awe of the fact that adults can ‘still get hickies.’”

Wirt made an air quote with one hand, then dropped it so both hands were cupped around his mug to warm them. His gaze lifted from the sketchbook, slowly roving over his boyfriend’s body. In only boxers and now glasses, he made quite the picture. Wirt struggled not to fidget, leaning back and crossing his legs purposefully to mask his restlessness. The warmth swirling in his stomach wasn’t only from the hot chocolate.

“And uh… some of my second period students saw the sign at lunch and came by after class and… well, this wasn’t on my neck when they’d seen me that morning, so you can imagine the conclusions they came to.”

“The accurate one?” Dipper leaned against him, brushing his lips against the mark he’d left. “I’m sorry, though. I meant to put one lower on your neck, so you could hide it. But you made it hard to think straight.”

“It’s okay. Sixth period’s rowdy no matter what, and it was kinda fun to admit to the kids from second that their ship has set sail. I need to come up with something else for them to call you though. I don’t want word getting out that I’m dating a supposed criminal.” Wirt hummed to himself, grinning as he nudged his leg with his foot. “Though the way you look right now is absolutely criminal. It can’t be legal for you to be as attractive as you are.”

“Mmhm.” He swapped the sketchbook for the mug, shuffling on the couch until his front was pressed to Wirt’s side, legs wrapped around his waist. “Lazy and blind, a winning combination.”

Wirt laughed, face flushing as he snaked his arm between the back of the couch and Dipper’s side, hand coming to rest against his back. “Alright, well, when you put it like that.” He rolled his eyes, tone teasing. “It doesn’t actually change anything. You’re still hot. Clearly you also make it hard to think straight.”

“You just have a glasses kink which I’m completely willing to encourage.” His smug smirk was hidden as he took another drink. It was sweet, but he hadn’t indulged what little sweet tooth he had in a while. “Mm. I also got our reservation confirmed, by the way. She said anytime between six-thirty and seven, so we can head out around six if you want.”

“Six works. Should probably hop back over to my place to shower and everything in a bit myself. And stop distracting you from your work.” He ducked his head to press his lips just below his jaw.

Dipper tilted his head back. “You’re not a bad distraction to have. Besides, I’m not on a deadline.” His lips quirked into an amused smile. “As long as I keep my phones off and my email closed, anyway.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Wirt grinned into the next kiss, giving his attention to the spot right above the mark he’d left him. “Plus, I thought you wanted to see me in a suit. If I’m going to dress up, I’ve got to do it right.”

“I do definitely want to see you in a suit.” He shifted his hips, running his tongue along his teeth. “Want some help in the shower? I mean, if you’re going to do it right, you should be as clean as possible.”

“Oh, um… maybe. If you’re offering. You are pretty thorough, after all. Might be in my best interest.” Wirt cleared his throat, gaze flicking down to where Dipper pressed against him as he lifted his head, then up to his eyes.

Dipper grinned, looking at him over the top of the frames. Eyes wicked, he rocked his hips with a bit more purpose. “Definitely in your best interest. I take very good care of what’s mine.”

If he’d had any reservations before, they were all out the window now as Wirt set his mug down and tugged Dipper fully onto his lap to seal their lips together. “Mm. What are we waiting for? Might as well shower now, then.” He slipped his hand between them to squeeze him through his boxers. “Lead the way.”

Breath catching, Dipper rutted against his hand. “Yeah. Uh-huh. Now’s good. Now’s perfect.” He leaned forward and nipped at his lip before pulling his sweater up and off for the second time that day. Busy fingers attacked the buttons of his shirt. “Let’s just take care of all these clothes first. You won’t need them.”

“You won’t need these either.” Wirt toyed with the waistband of his boxers as he leaned back to let Dipper take care of his shirt. “Or your glasses, unfortunately, so I’ll just have to enjoy what I can get from them for now.”

“I’ll wear them for you when we actually manage to find a bed.” He laughed, lifting up to his knees to straddle his lap and push the shirt from his shoulders. His hands fell, unbuttoning his slacks, tugging down the zipper.

“That’s so thoughtful of you. Thanks.” Wirt grinned, toeing off his shoes as he grabbed Dipper’s hips, placing a kiss to the center of his chest. “Save the rest for the bathroom?”

“That should not be a sexy question, wow.” Dipper slid his hands up, tangling them in Wirt’s hair to tip his head back. He captured his lips, the kiss deep and over too quickly for both of them. “Come on. Let’s go get... clean.” He rose, grabbing Wirt’s hands to tug him along.

****

\----

****

The water had been cold by the time they’d stumbled out, and Dipper was still grinning over it as six o’clock drew near. At quarter til, he tossed his sketchbook aside and rose from the couch, switching off his alarm.

Sketching was easier to set aside than his writing. Where the writing consumed, art only nipped. It was more fun than anything else, really, shifting the written word into a visual medium. He wondered, hoped, that Wirt would be able to see his influence in the college professor. It had been entertaining to take features from his boyfriend and shift them into someone new but no less important to him. His characters were extensions of himself and Wirt had managed to get under his skin enough to claim a piece of his own.

That was terrifying, or should have been. Normally would have been. In the past, the moment a relationship had gone beyond casual banter and surface facts about the other, he’d started to get antsy. He’d never been one to trust easily, at least not since childhood. He’d been teased and beaten up by enough bullies to have that follow him into adulthood, coloring his relationships with an ugly shade.

But with Wirt, things were easy. Words slipped out, truths he tended to keep buried uncovered themselves. He was willing, for the first time in a ridiculously long time, to put himself in someone else’s hands and see how it went.

It may not have been going on long, but this relationship with his neighbor was going better than anything else he could claim. What was it about the man that made being around him so fulfilling? What was it about Wirt that made him feel safe?

He pulled his one and only suit from the very back of his closet, still in its dry-cleaning bag from the last time he’d worn it. He knew it would still fit, though, his sister’s handiwork flawless, and he’d stopped growing a long time ago.

His simple cotton boxers were swapped for navy silk, mind skipping its way right back to his boyfriend. Thinking of the way his eyes had darkened with appreciation after pushing the barrier aside, leaving him bare in the admittedly unflattering light of the bathroom had Dipper squirming.

Had he ever been so caught up in wanting to look good for someone else? Lazy hadn’t been an exaggeration. The majority of his wardrobe was over five years old, showers tending to happen when he remembered about them or had his eye-rolling sister remind him over skype. He was, when it came to his own appearance, a slob. It had never bothered him before.

But, god, did he want to look good for Wirt. He wanted to get those eyes on him and keep them. He wanted to see appreciation in his gaze, hear it in his compliments, feel it in his touch. He wanted to please him, and that was as new as the trust. He was as selfish as he was stubborn, had been told just that by every boyfriend he’d ever had - sometimes more than once. So of course it had to be true.

Everything about being with Wirt was different. The man who called him strong because he’d thumbed his nose at his father to become a writer. The man who would defend his books without a thought, who was awed by his art. Who could banter with him intelligently, sarcastic one moment, sugary sweet the next.

Dipper hiked on his pants, leaving them undone as he pulled on a cream-colored button front and tucked it in. Willingly dressing up for a date was a new one, too. He was the first to ask, “How formal is formal?” Jeans and t-shirts were his forte. Soda and sandwiches. And this had been his idea. Suits and ties. Wine and hors d’oeuvres.

He buckled his belt, tugged on a pair of black shoes, and reached for his tie. Already tied, permanently tied because he could never remember how the stupid thing worked, he looped it over his neck. He left it loose, the top button of his shirt undone, and sighed at his reflection in the closet mirror.

Maybe he was showing off a little. Maybe he was trying to impress the man who’d completely swept him off his feet. But that was alright. He pulled on his jacket, buttoning it, and nodded to himself. He could have one night, one celebratory night, to show off for the man he was very steadily falling in love with.

His next exhale was unsteady, pulse scrambling. “Talk about fast,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing a coat instead of his normal windbreaker or flannel. He left it draped over his arm as he gathered his wallet and keys. His phone was left behind as he locked his apartment and it was six on the dot when he knocked on Wirt’s door.

There was a small thud on the other side of the door, a moment’s hesitation following before it opened to reveal the English teacher looking very much not like an English teacher. “Sorry. Tripped on the table here-” Wirt cut himself off as he gestured to the console table beside him, eyes widening as he gave his boyfriend a once-over, then a twice-over just because he could. Not to mention because he couldn’t resist.

Wirt knew going into this that they would both be wearing suits, of course. Even if Dipper did know someone on the inside, that didn’t mean he’d waltz in wearing whatever he wanted. Wirt knew that, but he wasn’t prepared for what that meant, exactly. His heart skipped a beat - several beats - at the sight of him alone. The suit was tailored perfectly to him, no creases to be found, accentuating his shoulders and waist, his arms and wrists, in a way that flannel just couldn’t. It was aura surrounding this look as well. Dipper had taken the time to dress up for him. The man that didn’t have the patience to stand in front of a toaster for more than ten seconds had taken the extra time necessary to put on a suit just for their date. An important, celebratory date, but a date just the same.

“ _Wow_. Uh- I mean- no, I guess I did mean wow.” Wirt wrung his hands together to keep from reaching out to smooth down the front of his suit jacket or toy with the cuffs, fiddling with his own and attempting to ignore how the fit of his own suit just couldn’t compare. At least not in his mind. Not when faced with Dipper in his. “Sorry, I’m just staring at you, aren’t I? Hi. Hello. You look fantastic.”

“That’s okay. It lets me stare right back.” Dipper had no qualms reaching out, running his fingers along the lapel of his jacket. Had he really just been comparing his desire to draw to a nip? He wanted to go back into his apartment and grab his sketchbook and get this down, preserve it forever.

He usually looked nice, collared shirts, warm sweaters and slacks. But that was comfortable, Wirt always a little rumpled. This polished version had his heart stuttering and his smile spreading. Long lines accentuated by a well-fitted jacket. Long legs drawing his gaze, making him wet his lips. His hair was even brushed, the usually mussed strands smooth and neat. “You clean up very, very nicely, Mr. Palmer. Your students would have a field day with this.”

That got a chuckle out of him, cheeks dusted with pink as he tugged on his tie and smoothed it out. “Yeah? Well, I can see why you feel the need to keep your identity a secret from your fans. They’d be all over you if they could see you like this.” His gaze skimmed over him once more before he flashed him a grin. “Let me just grab my coat and we can head out. Your car or mine?”

“Mine. I need something to do with my hands or they’d just end up all over you, and we’d never make it to the restaurant.” Delighted by him, his suit and his blush, Dipper shrugged. “Since I’m starving and really want to show you off, I should drive.”

“Fair enough.” With his coat draped over one arm, Wirt grabbed his keys and locked up behind him. He slipped them into the same pocket as his wallet, then held his free arm out to loop with Dipper’s. “I’ll behave myself then. I want to show you off just as much.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the better behaved between the two of us.” He led the way, heading for the elevator this time. He wanted to stay as close as possible to his boyfriend. “You do look really great. Amazing. Your legs are going to kill me eventually.”

“By being clumsy and tripping over everything, yes. They’ll probably kill one or both of us,” Wirt laughed, leaning their shoulders together. “Thank you though, seriously. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the need to dress up this much. I almost couldn’t find my other black shoe and as endearing as you might find it when I wear shoes that don’t match, I would’ve been mortified if I’d been forced to tonight. Especially with you looking the way you do. Which is absolutely incredible, by the way. My heart’s still trying to recover from nearly swooning.”

“Not gonna lie, I am a little bit disappointed that your shoes match.” Dipper shifted his coat so he could take Wirt’s hand, lifting it to press a damp kiss to his palm. “But only a little bit because that heart problem’s apparently contagious. Seeing you like this is totally worth wearing this thing.”

His heart fluttered again, adoration bright in his smile and gaze as they waited for the elevator to reach their floor. “Not a fan of suits?”

“Nah. This is the... third? No, fourth time I’ve worn this thing, and I’ve had it for three years. I don’t get fancy or go to fancy enough places to bother wearing one.” He shrugged as the elevator doors parted, stepping into the empty box with him. “And definitely never on a date.”

“I’ll have to take a picture and document this momentous occasion. And, you know, in case this is the only time I get to see you in a suit.” Wirt laced their fingers together, a dizzying rush sweeping through him as he considered that last bit. “What uh… what made you feel like wearing one for this date? Or, well, suggesting we go somewhere that would require us to wear suits? Not that I’m complaining, I’m not at all, just the opposite because you’re seriously gorgeous, I just- if you’re not comfortable in suits…” He shrugged a little, squeezing his hand.

“I, um...” The elevator halted, the two of them stepping into the lobby. Dipper released him long enough to pull on his coat. “It was impulse at first. And then I warmed up to the idea because you just seem like a guy who _does_ like suits.” When Wirt's coat was on, Dipper took his hand and entwined their fingers. “Plus, I just wanted... something different. Something special. Being with you is both of those for me.”

Wirt rubbed his thumb along the back of his hand. “You are, too,” he murmured, gaze soft and warm even when faced with the harsh chill as they stepped out from the cover of their apartment complex. “Different and special. I’m enjoying every minute spent with you and I can’t say that about just anyone.” Wirt took his turn to lift their hands and brush his lips to the back of Dipper’s. “Thank you.”

The color the cold had whipped into his cheeks deepened, Dipper quickly ducking his head. “Well, let’s just... Let’s keep that going.” He looked back up, tugging his keys from his pocket and angled his head towards his car. “Come on, babe.”

The affection in Wirt’s expression didn’t lessen even as he heaved a dramatic sigh. “And that would be an example of how to not keep that going. Thanks.” His blush was too charming to ignore though, so he pecked his chilled cheek before releasing his hand to go around to the passenger’s side. “I’m seriously going to pick the worst petname for you if you keep this up. You do know that, right?”

Dipper laughed, unlocking the doors with a button on his key fob. “You didn’t mind it in the shower,” he pointed out with an impish grin, settling into the driver’s side and turning the key in the ignition.

“Hey, no. If I have to behave, then you do, too.” Wirt admonished as he buckled up, cheeks warming before the heat even turned on.

“What? It’s just an observation.” Dipper lowered the volume of his radio and flipped on the heater before backing out of his spot. The minute they were on the road, he reached out, pulse skipping when Wirt took the offered hand.

This was absolutely worth putting on the suit.

****

\----

****

Northwest’s was in the heart of the city, and didn’t even try to blend in with its surroundings. Where the majority of the buildings in this part of town were old, faded brick, Northwest’s was sharp angles and glass. It’s unapologetic appearance was one of the many draws of the wealthier urbanites, food and the family name attached to it five-star. Preston Northwest had been mayor throughout Dipper’s teenage years, and he’d used his influence and affluence well.

Reservations needed to be made months in advance, visiting celebrities making it a point to stop by and be seen doing so. The pomp of it normally made his skin crawl, but Dipper let amusement reign this time. Neither he nor Wirt belonged exactly, so it was almost like crashing the party. Thumbing their noses at societal expectations.

They pulled up to the front, valet parking the only way Dipper’s car was ever going to find a spot. “Warning you now, though I should’ve sooner, her highness is probably going to pester us. She’s as bad as Mabel, I swear. Just humor her, and she’ll go away.”

“Alright, thanks for the heads up,” Wirt chuckled, focusing more on Dipper to avoid openly gaping at the facade, both from disbelief that the two of them would actually be dining here and from the dramatic, bold architecture that couldn’t help catching his eye. “But I suppose a little pestering is the least we could put up with since she’s how we’re eating here in the first place.”

Forced to look away from Dipper so they could both get out of the car, his gaze was inevitably drawn to the building and it hit him hard. “Oh my gosh, we’re eating _here_. I’m letting you know now that I don’t think I’ve ever even eaten at a four-star restaurant, let alone five-star. If I embarrass you with my fork etiquette, I’m sorry in advance.”

“I never understood food rules, so that’s okay. We can be totally uncultured together.” Dipper passed over his keys and a discreet twenty to the valet, taking his ticket and tucking it into the pocket of his coat before taking Wirt’s hand and leading him inside.

The lobby was ornately decorated, the sharp angles of the building reflected in modern styled furniture. The waiting area was filled with high-backed chairs and a loveseat, the table they surrounded a spasm of glass. A golden chandelier hung bold and glittering from the high ceiling above them and, just visible to them, a live band played Chopin in the main dining area.

Dipper pulled off his coat when a whisper silent woman came up, halting their progress to the maitre'd, handing it to her and then helping Wirt out of his. Both tickets were placed into his wallet, another twenty disappearing with the woman and their coats. “I think they redecorate in here once a month or so. It’s crazy.”

Keeping his lips pursed together so as not to let his jaw drop and reveal how incredibly uncultured he was to anyone outside of Dipper, Wirt’s wide-eyed gaze soaked up the ambiance, almost a contrast of itself as it combined the boastful opulence of something more traditional with the sleek, less-is-more idea of contemporary design. “Whoever they’ve got as their interior decorator is probably the luckiest person in the field,” he mused, hand seeking Dipper’s. “Also, I’m paying you back for half of those tips. There’s no way I’m letting you cover this whole evening on your own, as gentlemanly as you’re being.”

“It’s fine. Let me treat my boyfriend.” He gave his hand a squeeze before approaching the maitre’d. “Two under Pines.”

The man’s back straightened immediately. “Of course, sir. Ms. Northwest said to expect you. Natalia.”

A woman stepped forward, holding menus to her chest. “Good evening. Ms. Northwest said you’d appreciate something a little more private, so, please, follow me. Your table’s been prepared.”

“Thanks.”

Wirt waited until Natalia started leading them through the main dining room, the theme of glitter and gold carrying throughout, before angling his head towards Dipper. “Ms. Northwest is your _in_? You rub elbows with Pacifica _Northwest_?” he hissed under his breath as they curved around a large fountain in the center of the dining room, a waterfall streaming down a sheet of glass that was illuminated by tiny lights at the bottom of the pool, and headed for a section of canopied booths lining the northern most wall made up entirely of windows overlooking the city.

“Oh my god, don’t say it like that,” Dipper whispered. “I’ve known her since we were kids. That’s not rubbing elbows.”

Wirt raised an eyebrow. “What? Like hobnobbing it at the playground? You know you’re going to have to explain how you met.”

“Okay, but did you seriously just say ‘hobnobbing?’” He grinned, lifting Wirt’s hands to his lips. “You’re adorable.”

“Oh, thank god you’re actually wearing a suit.”

Dipper looked up at the voice, grin shifting to the blonde. “Hi, Pacifica.”

“Hi, nerd.” Several gold bracelets jingled when she flecked a hand. “Natalia, I’ve got this. Thank you.”

“Of course, Ms. Northwest.”

“Tell Courtney I’ll put in their drinks and appetizers, then she can take over.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Natalia bowed out quickly, Pacifica quickly guiding them to a corner booth. She knew Dipper well enough to put him in sight of the musicians, but away from the majority. The two booths on either side of them would remain empty. “I was sure you were going to stroll in here in jeans like you did last time.”

“Nah. I didn’t feel like being forced to eat in the kitchen again,” Dipper replied, sliding into the booth she stopped at. “This is my boyfriend, by the way. Wirt Palmer, Pacifica Northwest.”

Wirt tugged on the cuff of his suit jacket, though resisted the urge to scuff his shoes against the floor, then held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for letting us in. Short notice and all.” He cut himself off before any nervous babbling could take over.

She waved that away, laying the menus on the table for them. “He owes me now, so it’s not a problem.”

“You mean you didn’t do this out of the goodness of your heart? I’m shocked.”

“Haha. You’re just so funny,” she deadpanned.

The exchange had Wirt’s lips quirking up, the ease of it doing its part in easing his nerves some. “So he owes you now? Better make it something good.” Sitting across from his boyfriend, he tapped the toe of his shoe against Dipper’s foot as he fiddled with the menu.

“Wow.” Dipper nudged his foot right back. “Way to take her side.”

“He's smart since I'm the one who's going to be keeping you fed. He can side with you and call me names behind my back later.” Pacifica smirked.

“You know I've always called you names to your face. Why stop now?”

Pacifica rolled her eyes, glancing at Wirt. “How do you even tolerate this nerd?”

Wirt pursed his lips, flicking his gaze to Dipper before meeting the blonde woman’s. “He takes me out to fancy dinners. How could I refuse?”

Dipper laughed, laying a hand on the table, palm up in invitation. “Thanks.”

Pacifica shook her head, tossed her hair back. “You deserve each other then.”

“That’s good to know we have outside approval.” Wirt grinned at his boyfriend, accepting his invitation to place his hand in his. “He’s also a pretty good-looking guy. That is also a perk to tolerating him. And the more time he spends with me, the less likely he is to burn down the apartment building.”

“And the real reason you're dating me emerges. Ouch, babe.”

“It’s for the greater good, Dipper. Sometimes sacrifices must be made.”

“Anyway, before you nerds get lost in each other’s eyes or something equally gag-worthy, Dipper, have you talked to Mabel?”

“Mm. Been radio silent the past two days. What’s up?” He straightened a little, concern filling his gaze as it snapped to Pacifica as she pulled out her cell phone. “Is she okay?”

“Relax, god. How are you overprotective an ocean away?”

His cheeks colored, fingers playing nervously over Wirt’s. “It might have something to do with the ocean between us, actually.”

“Yeah, right. Here.” After letting him slip on his glasses, she passed the phone over and he took it with his free hand, eyes rounding. “Girl made international news.”

“Oh my god. She let him walk.”

“Three times. It was the third time that really did it since he went without the binder. You know, parts don’t make gender, that kind of statement. And some of the articles are saying that the director tried to cut to commercial and didn’t want to air it, so he was pulled.”

Pride replaced concern, Dipper wriggling in his seat as his grin spread. “Oh my god. Oh my _god_. I have to call her tomorrow. It’s way too late now, but oh my god.”

Wirt squeezed his hand, lighting up at the sight of Dipper’s delight. He’d heard bits and pieces of the story behind Mabel’s showcase and was happy for her success as well as her model’s. It was Dipper’s happiness, though, on behalf of his twin that had his heart swelling. His love for her was obvious in the way he bristled with the urge to protect as well as the way he celebrated on behalf of her, and knowing that Dipper felt such a love for his sister made it all the easier to consider falling for him. Heck, it wasn’t even a matter of considering. It was inevitable at this point. There was no way, that Wirt could see so far, that he would not fall in love with the dashing, dapper man in his suit and glasses who’d taken his coat and kissed his hand, and also wiggled and beamed and looked positively adorable at the same time. He’d stolen his heart away and Wirt wasn’t in that much of a hurry to get it back.

“Definitely call her first thing in the morning. This is huge,” he agreed with his boyfriend. “You need to get the whole story straight from the source.”

“I will. I'll send her an email, see if she's free. Just- I'm so proud of her. I can't believe I missed this. I'm the worst.”

“You were focused on your own work, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“I know but-” He rubbed the back of his neck, smile sheepish. “I'm not used to missing her stuff.”

Pacifica took her phone back. “Yes because you live in each other's pockets.”

Dipper shrugged, flipping his menu open. “Maybe. But now I've got another reason to celebrate.”

“We’re definitely celebrating for Mabel tonight. And I don’t doubt she’ll find a way for you to make it up to her. Siblings are good at that.” Wirt opened his menu as well, blinking back the urge his eyes had to widen at the prices.

Right. Five-star. Fancy suits. Fancy food. Celebrating Dipper and Mabel’s accomplishments in their careers. His gaze immediately gravitated to the least expensive item - just because Dipper said he wanted to treat him didn’t mean he was actually going to shamelessly take advantage of that - and his decision was made quickly enough, though he left it open to skim it and see what else they had. It was certainly an eclectic spread of cuisine that they offered.

“Especially Mabel. I can’t promise that she won’t somehow drag you into whatever it is.” Dipper gave his hand a squeeze. “Thanks. For, um, you know, getting that I want to celebrate for her too.”

“You’re as eloquent as a freaking brick, Dipstick.”

He snorted. “Okay, you can go away now. Thanks.”

She cuffed his ear, taking their drinks and appetizer order. “Should be about five minutes for the drinks, ten for the rest. Please don’t make a mockery of my business, Dipper.”

“It mocks itself just fine.”

“You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious. You just don’t appreciate my humor.”

She twisted his ear again, making him laugh. “I’m leaving. You’re a disaster of a human being. Nice to meet you, Wirt.”

“You too.” He raised his hand in a slight wave, grinning over their exchange with a small laugh of his own, lacing their fingers. “You are pretty hilarious,” Wirt confided in him quietly as Pacifica’s footfalls clicked away from their table. “And adorable. A fine specimen of human being if I’ve ever seen one, even if natural selection failed in giving you a means to feed yourself.”

“Natural selection was nice enough to give me a twin for that, and now I’ve got you. So it all works out.” He took Wirt’s hand on both of his, trailing the lines of his palm with a fingertip. “It definitely works out that you also happen to be gorgeous and smart. Natural selection’s obviously in my favor here.”

“Obviously.” The light touch sent tiny thrills up along his arm straight to his heart. Wirt squirmed a little as he watched him, his foot rubbing against Dipper’s ankle under the table. “It also gave you all the right ways to effectively woo me into caring for you and ensuring your survival isn’t solely dependent on take-out and pizza. Not to mention the ability to charm other people into letting you into their restaurants. You seem to be very good at getting what you want.”

“It's a gift. Depending on who you ask.”

“Oh? Who would say otherwise?”

“Plenty of people.” Dipper ran his finger along his life line, quietly wondering over the small hitches early on, and deciding that he’d shared more than enough that day. A very fancy date with the man he had every intention of seducing the moment they made it back to their apartments wasn’t the place to talk about childhood wounds and perilous past partners.

Instead he looked up, smiling over the tops of frames he hadn't bothered to remove. “Did you really just say ‘woo?’”

Wirt’s fingers curled as his cheeks warmed. The lighting was dimmer by their secluded booth, but that didn’t stop it from glinting off the lenses or glimmering in his eyes. “Yes.” He managed to speak without his voice hitching, then fixed a stubborn look on his face. “That is what you’re doing, after all. It’s an appropriate word for this situation.”

“Be that as it may, this is still the first time I’ve ever heard the word used unironically.” Dipper lifted his hand, lips lingering over the knuckles. “It suits you.”

“Mm.” He slid the top of his shoe over Dipper’s calf. “Do you find that I ‘woo’ you as well? Unironically?”

He shifted his leg closer, encouraging the teasing touch. “Absolutely. You’re winning me over with your old-fashioned vocabulary.” Light kisses were brushed against his fingertips. “And your sass.” His tongue peeked out, teasing the palm. “And your hands. Have I mentioned how much I really like your hands?”

“No, you- uh… you haven’t actually.” Captivated by the attention, Wirt let his thumb brush the corner of his lips. “You’re definitely showing me just how much though. Have I told you how much I like your mouth?” His foot hesitated against his leg, ears burning as his own lips pursed against his words, nerves breaking through the haze.

“I mean, uh… no, yeah, that’s pretty much accurate, just didn’t mean for it to come out like that. Exactly. I mean, it’s everything about it, like your voice and the way your tongue slides over your teeth when you’re considering something and how your lips are surprisingly soft for often you bite down on your lower lip like… I could write a poem just about your mouth. Your eyes, too. Any part of you.”

Dipper laughed, thumbs rubbing small circles against Wirt’s palm. “I’m not worth poetry.”

“Are you kidding? Well, you’ll have to tell that to what I’ve already written- and wasn’t supposed to tell you about because now you’ll want to read it.” Wirt’s hand slipped down to hold onto Dipper’s. “Anyway, you’re totally worth poetry. Better than what I can offer you, but what can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic. And that’s- that’s not weird or anything for you, is it? The writing poetry about you thing… not the romantic thing.”

“No, it’s nice. It’s sweet. You’re sweet. And I do absolutely want to read it.” His gaze fell, lips quirking into an embarrassed smile. “I’ve written little things about you in between actual work, so I’d be the biggest hypocrite if it was weird.”

“You have? Oh my gosh.” Wirt clutched his hand tighter, seeking to reassure as much as he was staggered by the idea. “That’s just kinda… well, incredible that you would write about me. I mean, you’re a writer. Like, you actually write things that matter.”

“Not everything that gets published matters, and the things that aren’t published often do. It took me a long time to figure this out, but if you puts words to paper, you’re a writer.” Dipper laced their fingers, offering a warmer smile when he looked back up. “And I’ve always admired poets. I don’t have the mindset for it.”

“You have your own mindset. If everyone understood and wrote the same way, well, we wouldn’t have such a variety of literature to peruse. I guess we’ll just have to enlighten each other with our respective writing styles.” Wirt returned the warm look with a squeeze of his hand as he took his turn to tug Dipper’s over and press his lips to the side of it. His free hand tapped the menu. “For now I’ll stop distracting you so you can actually decide what you want.”

Dipper ran his tongue over his teeth, head tilting to the side as he studied his boyfriend. “I already know what I want,” he murmured, taking his turn to run the side of his shoe up Wirt’s leg before dropping his gaze to the menu.

****

\----

****

“I still think you should’ve let me pay for _something_. The dessert at least. You didn’t actually plan on eating any of it, did you?”

The driver and passenger doors both shut in near unison, Wirt’s arm settling around Dipper’s waist as they came together to cross the parking lot, the inviting warmth of their apartment building just ahead of them. Though Wirt found he wasn’t much bothered by the cold, not with the warmth that seemed indissoluble simmering as deep as his bones, sated from the filling food and ample conversation and casual touches exchanged across and under the table. A lot of touches.

In light of learning how much he liked his hands, Wirt made sure to brush his fingers over Dipper’s palm and wrist at every opportune moment, basking in the sound of his uninhibited laugh and sight of his cheeks coloring beneath the dark, thin frames of his glasses. At least until he figured out what he was going to be eating and pocketed them, but they were a lovely sight while they lasted, and it wasn’t as if Dipper didn’t look just as irresistible without them.

That didn’t stop him from whining about it though, and received many playful kicks for his efforts. The evening was a combination of gentle teasing and shameless admiration on both parts. Their attire and the ambiance didn’t force a shift in the air of their relationship as much as it added to it. Dipper was still Dipper, and Wirt was still Wirt, and the fact that they were able to impress and woo one another just like that was what was impressive.

Though one thing that did impress Wirt was the way that Dipper picked up on what he thought was subtle glimpses at the dessert menu. He’d had no intention of ordering anything at the end of their meal, already anticipating that they would both be pretty full upon finishing their entrees. He just liked reading about desserts and picturing them and… well, yes, he did like eating them as well, but rarely - if ever - did he indulge himself while out. To keep from appearing like a glutton, Wirt kept this little habit of scanning the dessert menu to himself, or so he thought. Though he supposed, looking back on it, Dipper was a writer, he created characters with nuances and facets and was most likely an experienced people-watcher, or at least someone that caught onto details with a keen eye.

He could also apply those details to himself, if how he looked in a suit was any indication. Wirt ducked his head as he held open the door to their building, letting Dipper through first, gaze tracing the lines of his suit pants. The pleasant warmth in him fanned out as he followed him in. It was probably a good thing Dipper was lazy enough that he didn’t doll himself up like this every day.

“I feel like the next five dates are going to have to be on me to come close to making up for whatever you just spent,” he continued, curbing his focus to their banter rather than pressing Dipper up to the nearest surface to feel him through his suit. “Maybe the next ten.”

One of those uninhibited laughs spilled out as he looked over his shoulder and waited for his boyfriend to catch up so he could bump their hips together. “Just don’t think about it. It was worth it.”

Wirt smiled at him, bumping back before they headed for the elevator. “Fine, fine. If you say so. But can you really blame me for wanting to repay you for all your… generosity?” He pressed the button for their floor, turning an offer over in his mind. After all they’d done together that day, it didn’t seem like such a big step, but in a way it was. It had been a long time since he’d shared his bed with someone, the thought as intimate for him as the acts that would most likely be included. He wanted to though. Especially after all they’d done.

“I got to see you in a suit the whole night. I’ve been paid back pretty well.” Dipper pulled off his coat, stepping into the elevator when the doors opened. “Plus, watching you just enjoy yourself was fun. I may have to take you there again.”

“If it gets you in a suit again, too, then there’s really no way I’d be able to say no if you offered.” Wirt shrugged his coat off as well, eyes immediately drawn to his chest, the loose tie taking his gaze up to his neck and jaw. “You don’t have to spend a ton of money on a date for me to enjoy myself though. I enjoy myself whenever I’m around you.”

The staring didn’t escape his notice, Dipper unable to resist loosening his tie enough to undo the second button of his shirt. “I know, but I don’t get to actually play successful author very often, and your wide-eyed delight in everything from the chandelier in the foyer to the mountain of chocolate at dessert gave me a very good reason to play.” A hand reached up, his index finger running down Wirt’s tie. “I love the way you wear emotion. You’ve got a wide variety, and they all look good on you in their own way.”

“Well, I suppose I can indulge you, especially after you took such care in indulging me.” A shiver followed Dipper’s finger, Wirt’s own lifting to toy with the collar of his boyfriend’s shirt and take a peek at the steadily fading mark. “It’s pretty much impossible for me to contain my emotions around you anyway.”

“I’ve never been good at containing mine, so it’s nice to be on the same playing field.” Dipper bit his lip as the elevator stopped at their floor, hoping that this wasn’t the end of their night. As hot as his boyfriend looked in his suit, he wanted him out of it. He wanted to finally tumble onto a mattress with him, to bow his back in surrender and let Wirt have him. Quietly, he cursed himself for not having condoms and vowed to get some as soon as possible.

“So… um…” Wirt cleared his throat, kicking himself for his lack of eloquence as they both hesitantly made their way down the hall. “I was… I was thinking… the date doesn’t have to end just because dinner’s over, yeah? Would you… would you want to come over?” They stopped outside their doors, the backs of Wirt’s fingers brushing Dipper’s, smile shy and hopeful as he gazed at him, heart thundering in his chest. “And not for coffee or a glass of wine or whatever excuse people come up with, but you know, just... would you stay the night? With me.”

Dipper caught his hand, fingers tangling. It was a commitment, staying the night, but he didn’t hesitate. Skin tingling with anticipation, he nodded. “Yes.”

Wirt’s breath left him in a rush and he squeezed the hand in his. He fished around for his key one-handedly, unlocking his door with a slight tremor. As he opened it, he glanced back at Dipper, smile growing, and he led him inside, flicking on the light to continue to appreciate the sight of him. The warmth filling him was content to burn slowly. Being on the same playing field, both of them knowing just what this meant, allowed him the opportunity to savor the attraction crackling between them. He took Dipper’s coat from his arm, laying it alongside his own over the back of his couch.

When he turned back to him, Dipper reached up. His hands trailed from his shoulders, down his arms and right back up. One curled in his jacket, the other cupping the back of his neck. “I haven’t kissed you properly all night because I didn’t want to muss you up.”

He lifted to his toes, lips hovering close to his lover’s. This was different. Both the classroom and the shower had been fun and satisfying, excellent ways to end a dry streak. This felt like something more, something solid. His fingers kneaded the back of his neck, a little nervous and surprised to be so. “Now it’s all I want. You’re all I want. I need you,” he murmured, sinking into the kiss.

Lips parting on a soft sound, Wirt drew him in deeper, his palms pressing against his chest, sliding down over the fabric of the jacket. His fingers toyed with the button, slow in pushing it through to part the lapels as his tongue flicked over Dipper’s lips, running over where his teeth had pressed into not moments before in the elevator. This was for them to take their time, to get to know their bodies and how they reacted together. This was discovery.

Wirt broke the kiss slowly, rubbing their lips together as he breathed. “Muss me up all you want. I need you, too. Need to feel you.” He reached for his tie and gave it a gentle tug as he stepped backwards towards the bedroom. “All of you.”

Enchanted by him, Dipper took a step forward. Then another, letting himself be led. “I’m yours. You can have me, inside and out.”

“We’ll make a trade,” he murmured, free hand lifting to caress his cheek. “You can have me in exchange. I’ll be yours. I want to be yours.” Wirt’s back bumped against the doorframe and he took the pause to pull Dipper closer by his tie, teasing him with light kisses brushed against his lips as his thumb stroked just beneath his eye.

Dipper murmured an assent, undoing the button on Wirt’s jacket. “Seems fair.” His blood swam in his veins, mind fogged by the drugging kisses and the gentle hand on his face. “Touch me like there’s been no one else. Love me like there’ll be no one else after.”

His heart stuttered as his breath hitched and Wirt gave him a deeper kiss, firm and full of promise. He let his tie slip from his fingers, arm winding around his waist to pull him into his chest. Stepping further into his bedroom, the moonlight mingling with the glow of the streetlamps as it spilled through the open blinds to guide them, Wirt spun them so Dipper was the one backpedaling, the backs of his knees the ones to come in contact with the edge of the bed.

“I only want you. I only want to love you,” he confided shakily, then ducked his head to bury his face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling before nipping at the fading mark, lips and teeth working to renew his claim, to help Dipper feel how much he wanted him.

A moan filled the air between them, Dipper's eyes fluttering shut only for a moment to absorb the sensations rippling through him. The sting of his teeth, the possession of his lips, the warmth of the body against his. Fingers trembling, he pushed the jacket from his shoulders. His eyes opened so he could see the knot of his tie, wasting little time with it so his fingers could begin slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt. He trailed his fingers over his chest as inch by inch was revealed to him. It didn't matter that they'd touched quite a bit earlier. Now he could take his time. Now he could enjoy and show his appreciation without the burden of a time constraint.

Wirt hummed against his neck, then laved his tongue over the purpling skin in thick, slow swipes. With one more stroke to his cheek, his hand stopped cradling Dipper’s face, both dropping to his waist. Still lapping at the column of his throat, he fumbled with his lover’s belt buckle, fingers teasing just over his groin as he slid the belt free.

“Wirt,” was a sigh, Dipper lifting to his toes. One hand grasped his shoulder, the other unfastening his pants to untuck and finish unbuttoning the shirt. “Your hands. I love how they look when they're on me. I love how they make me feel.”

“Yeah?” He raised his head, nose and lips grazing his jaw, and let the belt fall to the floor to tug Dipper’s shirt free from his waistband. His fingertips brushed just under it, feeling his stomach muscles quiver at the light touch to warm skin. “They’re going to make you feel really good,” Wirt promised, leaving one hand low on his abdomen as the other pulled his suit jacket from his shoulders.

“I really don’t doubt that.” Dipper ran his hands down Wirt’s bared chest, leaving the shirt on his shoulders so he could unzip and push his pants low. He dropped back down so his tongue could find the hickey his students had been so distracted by, nipping at it to freshen it. Remembering his glasses and the playful promise he’d made before they’d showered together, Dipper tugged his glasses case out of his pocket and tossed it to the bed behind him. “You’ve got all these long lines and I just- God, Wirt, surround me, fill me. I want to drown in you.”

“I’ll be your current and catch you as we catch fire,” Wirt murmured against his ear, gasping softly at the sting of his mark, fingers deft in undoing his pants and pulled them down. “Drag you from the shore to engulf you in sweet desire.”

Wirt felt the silk of his boxers, lips curving as he nibbled on his earlobe. He cupped him through the soft material that masked the growing hardness hidden beneath, coaxing Dipper into arching against him. Wirt paused only to kick off his shoes, his pants following before he dropped down to remove his boyfriend’s shoes for him. His palms were reverent in caressing his legs on his way back up, over the the fabric of his slacks until he reached the waist and had them fall.

Once Dipper stepped out of them, Wirt caught him about the waist and lifted him just enough to lay him back on the bed. “I’ll sweep you up in me, carry you on wave after wave of ecstasy.”

Poetry had Dipper shivering as much as the touches, a gasp escaping when he was lifted. His fingers curled around Wirt's biceps, pulling him down to claim his lips.

Knees pressing into the mattress, Wirt settled them on either side of Dipper’s thighs as he hovered over him, pleased sounds spilling into their kiss as his fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt. “Think I might be drowning in you, too,” he breathed, smile soft and a little dazed before he sucked gently on his lower lip.

“Mmhm. We’ll sink together.” He slid his hands beneath Wirt’s shirt, gliding them down his arms and dragging the fabric off. He caught Wirt’s hands, giving them a brief squeeze before his own pushed away the last barrier between his hands and Wirt’s body. He cupped his length, fingers wrapping around and kneading, other hand petting his thigh.

Wirt moaned, hips rolling into the touch. The slow pace was only heightening his need, each touch electric and lighting up his senses even as he sank. His name fell from his lips as he pressed them to his neck, damp kisses finding every inch of skin, tongue darting out to taste him, to overwhelm all his senses with this man. He pushed his shirt open to bare his chest to him, flicking his loose tie aside to let his fingers explore and touch. Let Dipper feel his hands on him everywhere. He dragged his thumb over one of his nipples, rubbing in circles while his other hand traced the dip of his hips just above his boxers.

“Wirt,” he breathed, hand leaving his length to explore. They kneaded his thighs, pushing his boxers down until they bunched at his knees. “You’re so beautiful.” His fingers skimmed up his back, playing over his spine in meaningless little designs as every single kiss spiked his arousal. His hips shifted restlessly under the touch, so ready for those long fingers to find him and stoke the flames.

That compliment, of all things, had him flushing, keeping his face hidden a moment before lifting his head to ease both of their boxers off completely. Dipper’s shirt and tie followed, falling somewhere to the floor and forgotten. Everything was forgotten when Wirt was faced with Dipper, all of him. “So are you,” he exhaled, breath rushing out of him as his heart and arousal swelled. “You’re gorgeous.” He cupped one of his hips as he reached down and stroked along his lover’s length.

Dipper gasped, hips lifting as his back arched, fingers scrambling briefly for purchase. They found some in his hair, tangling in the strands. “I- God, Wirt.” His other hand reached out, closing around the case. He flicked it open, unfolding the glasses one-handed and quickly pushing them on. His eyes immediately rounded behind the frames, his slightly blurred lover coming into sharp focus. His teeth dragged along his lower lips, Dipper marveling at the desire so clear in dark eyes. “Oh, wow,” he murmured.

“And just when I thought you couldn’t get more beautiful,” Wirt huffed out, licking his lips as they quirked up, fingers curling around his cock on a light tug. “I… I picked up some things on my way home from work so we can… we can go as far as we want. Whatever we want to do.”

His teeth sank into his lip hard, but it didn’t quell the embarrassingly eager noise he made. Dipper’s gaze roved over his boyfriend’s body, fingers sliding down his chest so his thumb could rub teasingly, tantalizingly, against the tip of his cock. “I want- If- if you wanted, I-” He shook his head, arousal fogging his mind and tripping into his words to make them difficult to get out. “I want you to take me. I want to feel you.”

Wirt swallowed thickly, his own eager noise spilling out as Dipper’s words and hand made the heat coiling in his belly spike. “Yes. Yes, I want to. Oh my god, do I want to.” He claimed his lips, tongue quick to soothe over where his teeth had been. Rocking into his hand, craving more of his touch, Wirt twisted his wrist and pumped his boyfriend steadily, hot and pulsing against his palm. “I want to make you feel so good.”

Dipper cried out, the flare of heat between them electrifying. His hand fell away, fisting in the sheets as his legs lifted, banded around Wirt’s waist. He pressed close, whimpers shameless as he rubbed their groins together. “Babe, please don’t make me wait. You’ll feel good too. I’ll be so good for you.”

“Dipper,” he groaned, grinding against him for more of that spark of pleasure and Dipper’s reaction to it.

Wirt reached out across the bed, feeling around for the plastic bag he’d left there. He dragged it over, sitting back on his heels as he took out the lube and the box of condoms. Casting the bag aside, he kneaded Dipper’s thigh, the tight grip around him intoxicating. The way he clung to him, craved him, needed him. He could only imagine what it would be like once he was inside him, surrounded by him as he filled him.

He twisted the cap off the lube and coated his fingers in it, rubbing them together to warm it before lowering his hand, index finger brushing his entrance. “Are you ready?” he had to ask, knowing it had been a while for them both, wanting to do this right.

One hand stayed curled in the sheets, the other petting his chest. Dipper swallowed, nodding. “I- Yeah. I’m-” His hips shifted, arousal thrumming beneath his skin. “I can’t think, but I’m ready.”

“Okay. Don’t worry, you won’t have to do much more thinking.” Wirt went back to caressing his thigh as he slipped the first digit inside. “Just let me take care of you. Let me make you mine.”

He groaned, head falling back. His. Dipper very much wanted to be his. “Yes…” His hips rocked, muscles relaxing.

“That’s it, Dipper,” he crooned, watching him lose himself to his touch. His length throbbed, aching to be inside and inspiring this reaction. Wirt coaxed the steady rocking with slow thrusts of his finger, marvelling at the tight grip when he tensed around him as he added a second to gently stretch him. “You’re so good.”

“I want you,” he moaned, hand leaving the sheets so his forearm could drape over his brow. His tongue swept along his lower lip, gaze dark and dazed above his glasses.

Wirt’s breath hitched at the sight of him, arousal hot as it flooded him, moaning as he worked his fingers deeper, both to thoroughly prepare him and find his sweet spot. “I want you, too. I want you so much, you’re so beautiful. Almost, Dipper.”

He wanted to protest, his next sound more of a whine. He wanted to take him in, feel him deep. He wanted to feel the rush of that physical connection, of joining, of trusting someone enough to be so vulnerable with them. Most of all, he wanted those things with Wirt. He wanted the rush with Wirt, to join with Wirt. He wanted to trust him, already did more so than he ever had in the past. It would be different with him, was already as he took his time, took care to not rush this. His eyes closed, teeth sinking into his lip yet again. Those beautiful hands were going to drive him to madness.

When they did, his eyes flew open, hips jerking out of rhythm as Wirt's name came out a startled outcry. “Ah- Yes! Yes, Wirt, god, please. Oh, god.”

“Right here?” Wirt hummed, immeasurably pleased by the way he could make him writhe. He rubbed the bundle of nerves with more purpose as he pet low on his abdomen.

Dipper babbled incoherently, fingers kneading above his heart. There, yes. He couldn’t breathe, muscles spasming around his too-clever fingers. His glasses were skewed when he tossed his head to the side, cheek rubbing against the bed. “S’good. So, so, just, good. Please, babe, please. Ready for you, please.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay. God, Dipper, need to be inside you.” His fingers slipped out of him, immediately scrabbling for the box of condoms.

Wirt took out one of the packets, trembling as he opened it. He hissed softly as he slid it over himself, hips jerking into his own hand as his gaze roved over Dipper, spread out and flushed and waiting for him. He covered the condom with more lube, biting his lip as he stroked quickly, then cupped Dipper’s hips and lifted them. As he positioned himself at his entrance, he ducked his head to pepper his neck and jaw with kisses and compliments, each brush of his lips and murmur filled with affection while he eased his way inside, the tight heat engulfing him filling his mind with a haze that screamed “perfect” and “right.”

Dipper echoed the thoughts, his own mind reeling. “Perfect,” he whimpered. “Just like that. Feel so good. So good, so-” His breath caught, eyelids heavy but unable to close as he didn’t want to miss anything. The arm pressing on his brow shifted, fingers tangling in Wirt’s hair to tug at it, tilting his head so he could claim his lips.

It was different with him. It was so, staggeringly different. Better. His legs banded around his waist again, nerves on fire everywhere their skin touched. “So right,” he whimpered. “You’re so right for me.”

“Dipper,” Wirt gasped, trembling as he sank into him. His chest felt as tight as Dipper’s grip on him, heart straining against the wealth of sensation spiralling through him. Their lips, Dipper’s breath, the sound of his whimpers, the sight of his eyes dazed and dark over skewed lenses, his heels pressing against his back, his fingernails raking against his scalp, tugging on his hair, his body drawing him in, wanting him, needing him to fill him up completely, entirely, make him his.

“Dipper,” he sobbed, hips rolling helplessly, shallow and careful, but needing to move. He needed to be needed. He didn’t top often with past lovers, but when he did, his need crashed into him, the intimacy he craved devastating and intense and rarely given. This was all that and more. Dipper was giving him everything. “Good, right, everything. You’re everything.”

“Everything,” Dipper repeated, the word squeezing his heart. That’s what this was. That’s what being with Wirt was. Simple, but devastating. His hips moved, falling into rhythm with Wirt almost seamlessly. “My everything. Drowning in you. I’ll never come back up for air.”

“Don’t. Stay with me. Feel me- oh god.” Wirt gripped his hips tighter as he deepened his thrusts, staggered by the way they moved together. Rolling into one another like waves, mutual pleasure sweeping over them. “Yes, drown with me. Dipper, need you. I need you. Need me, too. Please.” He let go with one hand to wrap his fingers around his length and stroke in time with the rocking of their bodies.

“So bad. Need you so bad.” Dipper let out a keening noise, nails raking down his back as his cock throbbed under the attentions. His legs tightened around his waist, every thrust drawing him closer to the edge. “Feels so good. Just you. Only you. Feel you, Wirt, feels so good.”

Much as he enjoyed it, he hadn’t bottomed often in the past. A need to be in control and the difficulties he tended to have trusting others made it difficult to submit and surrender. With Wirt, trust was easy. The reigns could be passed over, and he could just enjoy. Submit, surrender. Even as he kept his hips moving, helpless to do otherwise, he went pliant beneath him. He gave in to the way his heart yearned, and let himself be had. “Yours,” he panted. “Yours, all yours. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

“I won’t. Never. I won’t, you’re mine.” Wirt nuzzled into his neck, suckling a new mark into his skin as he hiked him up further, changing the angle as he drove deep and steady, relishing the way Dipper surrendered to him. His hands and hips, his mouth and cock. Succumbing to the mindless, desperate need they were suspended in. “Mine.”

Dipper cried out, the sound a broken sob with the angle just enough to have stars exploding behind his eyes. Blinded even with his glasses, his hips bucked out of rhythm. Blunt nails dug into Wirt’s back, his own arching as if he could somehow get closer. Muscles clenched, every thrust maddening. Little mewls of pleasure spilled out, filling the air.

Damp, messy kisses were pressed to his flushed skin, wherever Wirt could reach as he kneaded his length. He encouraged the way Dipper strained against him, writhing in his grasp, undulating. His free hand pushed into the small of his back, keeping him close, close, touching everywhere, feeling everything. The dizzying clench around him brought him close to the edge, his thrusts harder as he aimed for that spot over and over.

Wirt lifted his head to let his gaze soak up his lover. His body responding beautifully to his, expression drenched with ecstasy. Entranced, aroused, completely immersed with him, he choked out his own soft cries, eager to drink in Dipper’s precious sounds. “That’s it. That’s it, Dipper, so good. You’re so good- ah- mm. So good and so mine. Let go. Let go for me.”

He couldn’t have refused, the pressure building within him too much to handle. Every wet brush of lips, every stroke of those fingers, every thrust - they tore him to pieces even as they made him whole. The mewls broke off on a choked outcry, Dipper’s release crashing over him. “ _Wirt_!” was wailed, mind reduced to pure sensation. Overwhelming, blissful sensation as he came hard between them.

“Dipper- Dipper!” His name in that wrecked voice, the way he pulsed and quivered around him as he tumbled over the peak made it impossible for Wirt not to follow. As he milked Dipper’s orgasm from him, his hips stilled, buried deep inside, and let his lover’s spasms rip his own from him in a burst of perfect pleasure. Gasping, shaking, Wirt lowered his brow to Dipper’s and let them both quake in the blinding aftermath.

Slowly, Dipper’s tight grip relaxed. Both arms wrapped around him, keeping him close. Even as his mind returned and his cheeks tinted in mild embarrassment over how completely, mindlessly lost he’d been, he didn’t let go. His legs stayed twined around him as well, unwilling as yet to lose that connection. He didn’t want to lose any of this, lips curving into a satisfied smile.

“Mm…” Wirt rubbed their foreheads together, nose bumping the skewed glasses with a content sound. Blinking lazily, his gaze sought Dipper’s eyes first. What he found there helped his heart settle back into a lulling beat, the smile he caught sight of next causing his own to spread. His arms squeezed between his back and the mattress, banding around his middle to do his part in keeping him close, their chests and stomachs pressed together.

“You’re amazing,” Wirt murmured. “Still feels like I’m underwater.”

“Mmhm.” Like a cat with a bowl of cream, his smile turned smug. Smug and very, very pleased. A hand lifted to pet Wirt’s hair. “I still can’t think. That was... You’re perfect.”

Still giddy from the high of release, Wirt chuckled and tipped his head into his hand. “I try. Just for you. You’re pretty perfect yourself.”

Dipper shifted, stretching and letting out a pleased sound when he felt his lover still satisfyingly deep. “It’s never been perfect before,” he admitted quietly, pressing his face into the curve of Wirt’s neck. “It’s never been anything like that.”

“I know what you mean,” he replied after a beat, squeezing him gently as he let his eyes close. “It was… you really felt like it was perfect, too?”

“Yeah.” He drew little patterns against Wirt’s back, a little annoyed with himself for the bubble of shyness. “I mean, I’ve never- At least, I’ve never completely just... surrendered.”

There was a little flutter of pride that warmed his chest, tempered by his lover’s reservation. “Never? Well… I get that. I don’t usually either, and I’ve definitely never felt like… like I was completely accepted, you know? I know I said I’m an any kind of guy, because I am, but I haven’t… topped that- that often. Um. But I could just… get carried away with you. I don’t know. Maybe what I’m saying doesn’t make any sense. Feel free to shut me up if you want, but I’m-” Wirt opened his eyes, turning his head to search Dipper’s face. “I’m glad I… made you feel like you could. Surrender. Really glad.”

“It makes sense.” The smile that had faded blossomed again, Dipper cupping his cheeks to bring their lips together. “I don’t bottom a lot. Not- not like this. It makes me feel vulnerable, and I usually don’t like that. Trust issues, I guess.” His hands returned to his back, stroking gently as he placed a trail of light kisses along his jaw. “But that was good. That was really, really great and perfect. I like trusting you, Wirt. I like being with you.”

Wirt tipped his head to let him, contentment and relief and a great burst of affection swimming through his veins. “That works out pretty well then, because I like being with you, too. I trust you. I feel safe with you. I’m not kidding when I say you’re amazing. And just as hot out of your suit as you are in it.” His lips found Dipper’s for another sweet kiss.

He fought the urge to wriggle against him, but his laugh spilled into the kiss. “You look good in whatever you wear.” He nipped Wirt’s lower lip. “Or don’t wear.”

“Mm. Not wearing too much to bed now, am I?” Wirt grinned, lifting an eyebrow, then carefully eased out of him, if only because of the condom’s increasing discomfort and to give them the freedom to cuddle however they wanted. He sat up, kneading the backs of Dipper’s thighs to get them to release him.

Dipper grimaced, immensely disliking the stretched, empty feeling left behind, but let his legs lower to the bed and only squirmed a little.

“Does it hurt?” Wirt asked, reaching out to stroke his stomach as if to help soothe.

“No, it’s okay. I just don’t really like how-” He bit his lip, shrugging. “It’s dumb. I’m fine.”

Wirt pursed his lips, observing him quietly for a moment before leaning down to press a kiss to the inside of his thigh. “I don’t like it that much either. It’s a weird feeling. Nothing a little snuggling and a lot of kissing can’t fix though. Just give me one second.”

He gave his side a pat, then slid off the bed, removing the condom and tying it off. He disappeared into the bathroom just long enough to toss it and fetch a washcloth that he dampened with warm water. Picking his way through their clothes littering the floor, he rejoined Dipper. Lying beside him on the bed, body angled towards him, Wirt cleaned his release from him in gentle circles and brushed his lips to his shoulder.

“Is there anything you like that helps you feel better afterwards?” he asked.

“No, I... I usually just... ignore it?” Dipper regarded him with wide eyes, fiddling with the glasses he’d removed in his brief absence. It had been longer than the last time he’d had sex for someone to take care of him after. And now that he had a taste of Wirt’s version of aftercare, he was fairly willing to say he’d never been taken care of after. It was another reason why he tended not to bottom. “Um. This- this is okay.”

“Yeah?” Wirt offered him a smile, brushing aside the sympathy that attempted to well up to focus on doting upon him. He captured his lips in a kiss meant only to give, affection filling it as he caressed him with the washcloth a little longer than necessary for cleaning, but completely necessary attention-wise. At least he’d like to think so. It was something he’d always wished someone would take the time to do for him.

When it started to cool, he used it to quickly wipe himself off and set it aside to be dealt with later. Wirt pressed up against his side, draping his arm across Dipper’s chest and leg over both of his. He kissed both of his marks on his neck, each one long and lingering, feeling his pulse with his lips.

It was skipping, quick and uneven. The glasses were shut in their case and set aside, freeing Dipper's hands to pet and stroke his boyfriend. He shifted closer, fingers gently caressing his cheek. “You really are something else,” he murmured, as if speaking too loudly would chase him away.

“Mm-mm.” Wirt turned his head to kiss the tips of his fingers. “I’m just a guy who cares about his boyfriend.” His eyes shone with his smile, adoring as he committed Dipper’s face in the afterglow of their coming together to his memory. “Who cares… a whole heck of a lot.”

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Caught up in his smile, his shining eyes, Dipper's breath came out in an uneven sigh. He loved him. He absolutely loved him. It wasn't a steady fall any longer. He was in love with Wirt. The man had made him fall apart completely, had been given Dipper's unconditional surrender. Instead of being smug and insufferable over it, instead of pulling out, rolling over and falling asleep... Wirt cared. He'd understood that the surrender was important. He'd taken the time to clean him. He'd wrapped around him as though it still mattered that he was there, even when sex was over.

No, sex was too easy. He'd had sex, and it hadn't been like that. With Wirt, it was different. It was more. They'd made love and Dipper was indeed drowning in it. With a soft sound, awed and enchanted by him and the terrifying, bright love he felt, Dipper replaced his fingertips with his lips. He'd never been in love before. He'd toyed with the idea of it, he'd hoped that he was feeling it, but his heart had never left his chest to fall into someone's hand before. Whatever he'd felt for anyone else in the past paled in comparison to what swelled his rapidly beating heart. Dipper loved this man. This shy, bold, stubborn, giving, smart, funny, handsome man. This man who was only supposed to teach him how to cook. They weren't supposed to end up like this. He'd never intended to end up in his bed, and had never imagined feeling so incredibly cared for and special and wanted once there.

Dipper loved him, and it was frightening. He didn't dare admit it aloud, not yet, maybe not ever, but he could let it shine in a kiss. Lips parting, tongue seeking Wirt's, Dipper poured his amazement and his love into the contact. One hand stroked his side, the other staying on his cheek, thumb caressing beneath his eye in a gentle circle.

Wirt wriggled happily, pressing closer to him. Little sounds spilled into the kiss as he soaked up whatever Dipper had to offer him, reciprocating eagerly. His hand rubbed over Dipper’s heart, fingers curling and splaying against his chest as he was filled with such a satisfying, warm tingling that he was content to let spiral out and stay. He wanted everything that he felt about Dipper to embed itself in him and stay.

He felt just as wrapped up in him, just as wanted, and it was as thrilling a feeling as being buried inside him. Wirt let Dipper lead the kiss, doing his part to ease them out of it as it mellowed, with brushes of his tongue and nuzzles and sighs. “Feeling better?” he breathed quietly, understanding how being any louder might break the spell they’d fallen under.

“Mmhm.” He settled his brow against Wirt's, content to stay as close as possible for as long as possible. “Hard not to with you being so sweet.”

“Good.” Wirt rubbed their noses together, smile tugging at his lips. “Definitely want you to still feel good.” Shifting slightly, he pushed the covers down enough so he could slide them out from underneath them. He tugged them back up, over them and tucked them in as he snuggled back into him, tucking Dipper’s head under his chin. “Thank you,” he murmured, burying his face in his hair. “For staying.”

If his heart had its way, this wouldn’t be the last time. Dipper brushed a kiss to his neck, eyes closing as his arms wound around him. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Trust me.”

Tangled up in one another, heart beats synchronizing as they basked in the comfortable, easy contact, Wirt closed his eyes and breathed Dipper in, his words part of the everything embedded in him. “I do.”


	6. Chapter 6

He ended up staying Saturday night too. Sunday night, after a cooking lesson that had only been a little embarrassing because Dipper was wretched at flipping pancakes, he’d gone back to his own apartment to sleep. As much as he’d wanted to stay again, Wirt had classes to teach the following day and Dipper really needed to stop neglecting his agent’s attempts to settle a deadline.

Two weeks had been negotiated to three in deference to Thanksgiving, which currently had Dipper tapping an anxious rhythm against his thigh as he watched the little neighborhood through the window. Not only was it his first Thanksgiving without at least one member of his family around, he was meeting the family of the man he was only growing more and more in love with.

Monday night had seen them both back in Wirt’s bed, each admitting over simple sandwiches that Sunday had been restless and there had been something incredibly sweet about Wirt nuzzling him Tuesday morning after his alarm had woken them both, telling him he could go back to sleep. Very sweet and very familiar, as if they were living together rather than across the hall from one another.

The rest of the week he had off for the holiday, which Dipper dearly wanted to go well. Wirt’s family was important to him, much in the way most of Dipper’s family was to him. If this didn’t go well and damaged their relationship he’d have to move. He wouldn’t be able to handle living across from Wirt if what was between them ended.

And thoughts like that were just making him more anxious. He tore his gaze from the window to study his boyfriend. He’d gotten far more sleep than Dipper, the two of them having left in the very early hours of the morning for the six hour drive to Lakeville. Having realized Saturday morning that Wirt was very much not a morning person, he’d offered to drive the first half of their trip and had ended up letting him sleep in the passenger seat for far longer than three hours. He’d looked too sweet, passenger seat tipped back, his fingers curled and pillowed beneath his cheek, to be woken up, and focusing on driving had helped Dipper avoid stressing.

With Wirt behind the wheel for the last hour of the drive, he’d had more than enough time to stress. He really didn’t want to stress. “Ever think about moving back here?”

“I did at first,” Wirt replied easily, the streets of his hometown ever-familiar and autopilot kicking in once they’d passed downtown. “You know, when I first moved. I didn’t know anyone, things were unfamiliar and too big, and all I wanted was for my first year of teaching to be over so I could move back home and find a school that was closer. Pretty sure I called my mom every day for the first six months.” Huffing out a laugh at his own expense, he glanced over at Dipper to offer him a smile.

“By the end of that year though… I don’t know. Guess I felt like sticking it out a bit longer. The new and different became sort of comfortable, in a way. If I had to move back here - like for Greg or my mom or something - then I would, definitely, but I wouldn’t want to move back here because of not being able to handle being away or being afraid of the unfamiliar.”

“Mm. ‘Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.’”

Wirt positively beamed at him, laughing as he flicked the turn signal and turned onto his street. “Very fitting, Mr. Pines, though only out of context. The speaker didn’t actually take the road less traveled by, they saved it for another day.” He took one hand off the wheel to squeeze Dipper’s knee. “Still a good quote. Definitely one of my favorites.”

“As long as it works how I want it to, that’s fine.” Dipper looked out the window when he pulled into a driveway, swallowing the urge to stay in the car the rest of the day. “Is it stupid that I’m nervous?”

“Nope.” Wirt put the car in park, then leaned over to kiss his cheek. “You look like you’re handling it pretty well though. If it were the other way around right now, I’d be a babbling mess. Or silent. But it’ll be okay. I’ll protect you from Greg and Jonathan and their nosy questions.”

“There’s still a chance for babbling. The day is young.” But the reassurance helped, as did the kiss. He couldn’t help turning his head to press one to his lips.

Wirt smiled into it, keeping it light while letting it linger. “Well, I’m sure it will be adorable babbling. Come on. We should probably get out of the car before Greg looks out the window to check if we’re here for what I’m sure will be the billionth time. He might be technically seventeen, but his personality better suits a seven-year-old.”

Dipper laughed, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Someone not acting their age? Such a foreign concept, wow.” With a grin, he climbed out of the car and dipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he gazed at the little house. It was cute and harmless, the porch decorated for the holiday with ceramic pumpkins on the steps and a turkey door hanger. His parents barely decorated for Christmas, he mused, the thought reminding him that he’d have to call them at some point. Just another thing to add to the nerves prickling under his skin.

The driver’s side door closing preceded Wirt slipping his arm around Dipper’s waist for a quick squeeze before guiding him up the front porch steps. His family had lived in the same house since he’d been eight, most of his growing up occurring within the siding covered house. The sight of it couldn’t help but inspire a cozy feeling in his chest, memories fleeting and flickering as they replayed in his mind. Not even important ones, little things like walking home from school or climbing the tree in the front yard to escape his younger brother and the garden hose or coming home with milkshakes after an appointment with his therapist.

Curbing the trip down memory lane there while they were still innocent, Wirt squeezed his boyfriend again and rang the doorbell. He flashed him a quick smile, hardly a second passing before something slammed into the door on the other side. It flew open almost instantly and Wirt had to unwind his arm from around Dipper in order to flail for balance as the human equivalent of a labrador puppy more or less leapt on him.

“Greg!” he choked out and attempted to loosen the grip of the arms around his neck.

“Took you long enough! Did you stop for, like, a million coffees on your way here or what? I’ve been waiting _forever_ ,” the teenager attached to him whined.

“Oh my gosh. You have not. Your hair’s still wet. You literally took a shower maybe five minutes ago which means you’ve probably only been awake for ten.”

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t waiting while I slept. I can multitask.” Greg released him to take a step back and shrug, gaze flicking to Dipper and lighting up. “Hi! I apologize for my rude brother, he should really be better about introducing people.”

“You haven’t even said ‘hi’ to me yet-”

“I’m Greg!” He held his hand out to Dipper, cutting Wirt off with a bright grin. “I’m sure Wirt’s told you all about me.”

“I never speak of you.”

With a laugh, the nerves largely chased away by gratitude at meeting the brother first and thrilled by him, Dipper shook his hand. “You’re his cousin or something, right?” he teased.

Greg’s jaw dropped, eyes rounding as he clutched his chest in mock horror, gaze shifting to the teacher who was busy straightening his sweater. “Wirt, how could you betray our brotherly bond like this? How is it possible that you have more interesting things to talk about with your boyfriend than _me_?”

Wirt snorted. “Believe it or not, Greg, I do have a life outside of you.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” he replied, dropping the dramatic tone to smile at Dipper. “I like you. You’re funny. I’ll allow you passage into our house.” He stepped aside so they could both step inside. “Mom! They’re here!”

“I heard, Greg! I’ll be there in a second!” Wirt grinned as his mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen and it only broadened when his brother held his arms out for a more normal hug.

As obnoxious as the kid could be, he was pretty impossible not to love. “Hi, Greg,” he told him as he pulled him to his chest for a tight squeeze. “Missed you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Missed your dumb face too, brother o’ mine.” Greg savored the embrace for all of five seconds before wriggling out of it. “Where’s my present?”

Wirt huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes. “It’s in the car still. I’ll bring it in later-”

“Present.”

“Later.”

“No, now.”

Wirt looked to Dipper. “See? He’s literally seven.”

“I’m sorry if my youthful exuberance makes you feel insecure, Wirt, but that’s your problem.”

Dipper shrugged. The kid reminded him of his twin, which made it easy to relax enough to tease his boyfriend. “Look, babe, to be fair, it’s a pretty cool present and I wouldn’t wait either.”

“Don’t call me ‘babe.’”

“You know what my present is?” Greg beamed at Dipper, all hopeful and expectant. “What is it? You should totally tell me, and in exchange I’ll be your ally in everything.”

“As useful as you’d probably be, your brother’s the one I’m dating. Probably in my best interests to stay on his good side.”

“Just give him a cookie every now and then. You’ll be fine. I mean, obviously you’re already golden if you can get away with calling him ‘babe,’” Greg assured him with a pat to the arm, only for a “hey!” in protest to burst from him when Wirt ruffled his hair and batted his hand away. “One day I’ll be taller than you, and then you’ll be sorry.”

“I highly doubt that. It’s not in your genes, little brother. And he doesn’t get away with calling me that. I’m trying to train him out of it.”

Greg arched an eyebrow. “He totally just did. You didn’t even threaten his firstborn or anything.”

“Because that would be rude, Greg.”

“Plus, you secretly like it.” Dipper lifted up, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek.

“I really don’t.” Wirt pursed his lips, his traitorous blush dusting his face with pink. “I don’t know where you got that idea from.”

“It’s a mystery.” He wrapped an arm around Wirt’s waist, grin bright. “Also, this house smells like sweet potatoes and that’s basically the best thing ever.”

“Oh, well thank you.” Greg and Wirt both glanced away from Dipper as their mom joined them, using a paper towel to dry her freshly washed hands before holding one out to him with a delighted smile, her gaze unable to help drifting between the arm around her oldest’s waist and his face. “Hi, Dipper. We’re so glad that you were able to join us for Thanksgiving. It’s wonderful to meet you.”

His grip of Wirt tightened a fraction, nerves shooting right back into place. He battled them away to give her an easy smile, taking the offered hand. “No, I- I seriously appreciate you having me over. Hi.”

“Anyone who thinks my sweet potatoes are basically the best thing ever is welcome here,” she teased, softening at the way her son’s arm found its way around Dipper to try and relax him. “Not to mention anyone who Wirt thinks is important enough to bring home.”

The color still lingering in Wirt’s cheeks deepened. “Mom.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you know I get excited with things like this.” She released Dipper’s hand to cup Wirt’s face, lifting up to give his forehead a kiss. “Come in, boys. Make yourselves comfortable. Greg, get them something to drink.”

“I will if Wirt gets me my present.” Greg grinned cheekily as their mom ushered Wirt and Dipper into the living room.

“Maybe I’ll never get you your present.”

Dipper laughed, sinking down onto the couch. He liked the feeling of the home, the woman’s acceptance of him as much a balm to his nerves as Greg’s childish behavior. “If this is going to be a thing, I can get my own drink.”

“No, you won’t. You’re our guest.” As Amy Whelan spoke the words, Wirt mouthed them exactly for only Dipper to see, grinning at him. “Wirt can get the drinks.”

Pretending like he hadn’t been predicting her words, he glanced back at her. “So I’m not a guest even though I don’t live here anymore?”

“You know where the glasses are,” was her reply.

Wirt shrugged, reaching out to squeeze Dipper’s shoulder. “Alright. Well, going off that logic, once I show you where the glasses are, you won’t be a guest anymore.”

Dipper titled his head, briefly trapping his hand between his cheek and shoulder. “Sound logic there, captain. Lead the way.”

Wirt laughed and wiggled his fingers against his neck to get him to let go while Greg gasped with delight. “You call him the captain, too? I used to always call him Captain Wirt when I was a kid!”

“What do you mean ‘used to?’ And you’re still a kid.”

“Shut up, Wirt, I’m trying to bond with your boyfriend.”

“You didn't tell me that,” Dipper accused, releasing his hand to catch it with his own, lacing their fingers in a move that had become familiar.

Wirt blinked. “What? That Greg calls me captain sometimes?”

“Yeah. Family stuff like that's important.” He gave his hand a squeeze. “And I'm greedy for information. So drinks now because I'm thirsty.”

“Alright. You’ll get your fill of drinks, food, and family stuff while you’re here, don’t worry about that. I’m sure my family will be more than willing to share whatever they can.” Wirt fished his car keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Greg. “Go get your present out of the car while we get drinks. But don’t unwrap it until you’re back inside.”

“Yes!” Greg punched the air victoriously after catching the keys, then sprinted out of the house.

Wirt led Dipper into the kitchen, his mom following to check on the rest of dinner, and found his step-dad inspecting the turkey. It was sitting in its roasting pan on the counter next to a roll of tinfoil. Jonathan Whelan hummed to himself, considering both for a long moment before looking over his shoulder.

“Do I put the tinfoil tent on before or after the turkey’s mostly cooked?” he asked his wife. “Or does it even matter?”

“Before,” she and Wirt replied at the same time, though she continued as he bumped his hip to Dipper’s. “Technically you can do either, but I think it’ll be easier for you to take off the tent for the last half hour.”

“If you say so.” Jon set about pulling sheets of foil out to create a tent, taking a moment to wave. “Hello! Welcome home, Wirt, and welcome to our home, Dipper! Sorry about the informal greeting, but important turkey business is going on in this kitchen. This bird and I are flying solo this year.” He gave it a firm pat.

Wirt flicked his gaze to his mom. “Do we have a plan B for dinner?”

“Stop that. Dinner will be fine.” She waved off his concerns, though watched her husband fiddle with the foil for a beat. “I’m supervising. I’ll step in if something goes wrong.”

“Your faith in me never ceases to astound me, my love,” Jon called out to her.

With a snort, Wirt shook his head and opened one of the cupboards, holding the door open wide enough for Dipper to see inside it and gestured to the contents with a sweep of his arm. “Glasses. Cups. You are now officially an honorary member of this household.”

“A dream come true.” Dipper looked away from Jon and the turkey to reach for a glass, the coffee he'd started the drive with a distant memory. “Thanks.”

Wirt grabbed his own before going to the fridge to check what beverages they had. “If you want something caffeinated, then there’s iced tea and soda, but we’ve also got lemonade it looks like.” He glanced at him, taking the pitcher of iced tea out for himself and holding it up to inspect it. “Is it peach, Mom?”

“Mmhm.”

“Good.” His lips quirked up as he filled his glass.

Dipper held out his to be filled as well. “I'll try it. Today's survival plan requires caffeine.” He looked around the kitchen, unable to help comparing it to Wirt's. Not a bluebird in sight and obviously larger. But it had the same comfortable feel. “Do, uh...” His gaze fell to Amy. “I know he's probably told you how useless I am in a kitchen, but do you need any help?”

“He has definitely tried to convince me that you and kitchens shouldn’t be mixed, though I can’t help but feel that he’s exaggerating just a bit.”

Wirt poured Dipper’s glass for him, then set the pitcher back in the fridge. “I wish I was, Mom. I wish I was.”

Amy smiled at Dipper and winked. “We’ve got it covered. There’s not that much left to do and it’ll mostly be us waiting on the turkey until the rolls need to be baked and the rest of the food heated up. I wanted to get as much done as I could before you both got here. You can certainly help Wirt and Greg set the table later if you’d like, but we’re keeping it casual. You boys just relax, I know the drive was a long one.”

Wirt ducked his head a little, face coloring with mild embarrassment at having been groggy enough earlier to let Dipper drive most of the morning. He definitely intended on making up for it on the drive back, but it was still a little mortifying that his boyfriend was getting so many glimpses into how not a morning person he was. Though it did feel good to be comfortable enough with him to let him see that side, and comfortable enough with him to let him see the home he grew up in and to meet his family.

“Wirt, after Greg opens his present, you should take Dipper on a tour of the house,” Amy suggested.

“Sure. If he wants to.” Wirt shrugged, glancing at him as he took a sip of his iced tea. “It’s not that big though, so I wouldn’t really call it a ‘tour’ or anything.”

“I’d like to, sure.” Dipper took a testing sip, not usually one for tea, brows lifting as the peach settled over his tongue. It was sweet and he’d likely switch to soda after the one glass, but that didn’t detract from the flavor. “This is actually good.”

Wirt’s smile blossomed as he clutched his own glass. It might’ve been silly to be so pleased by his boyfriend’s approval over something as simple as tea, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He just wanted him to feel happy being here with him. He wanted their trend of huge, fast steps to remain successful. If that meant tallying up all the little details that made Dipper adorable to him and tucking them away for his own peace of mind, then that was what would happen.

The front door slammed shut and Greg hollered for them to return to the living room. Wirt offered Dipper his arm, linking them together as they went to appease his younger brother. The signed copy of his book was still wrapped, surprisingly, and Greg dropped to the ground to sit cross-legged by the coffee table while Wirt and Dipper settled on the couch.

“This present isn’t just from me. It’s from Dipper, too,” Wirt told him.

Greg blinked, his eager grin fading into mild surprise as he looked to him. “Really?”

Dipper stared at Wirt, cheeks coloring. Technically, it was. It had been his idea to sign something for him and it was one of his spare copies, but he still hadn’t expected to be given any sort of credit for it. He couldn’t deny it, though, so rubbed the back of it neck. “Yeah.”

“Oh. Wow.” Greg’s smile turned shy, gaze flicking between him and his brother. “Thanks.”

“Go on. You were so excited just a second ago.” Wirt nodded for him to open it, tucking one arm around Dipper’s shoulders.

“I’m still excited,” Greg huffed, then peeled away the wrapping paper, blinking as he recognized the cover of the book, then laughed. “Is this to make up for the one you stole from me-” He started to accuse, then faltered as he flipped through the first few pages, hurriedly finding the one that had caught his eye. “Holy moly hot dog,” he gasped, eyes wide as he gaped at his brother. “You got a signed copy? _How_?”

Wirt pressed his lips together tightly to keep from full-out grinning. “I have my ways.”

“No, but Wirt, these only come out during promotions and stuff and he’s not even finished with the fourth book yet. Did you spend like a stupid amount of money or something? You can’t do that just because it’s my favorite series! You’re a teacher! You’ll run out of money and starve!” Greg clutched the book to his chest regardless, like someone would come and snatch it away if he didn’t.

Wirt choked back a laugh, choosing to raise an eyebrow instead. “I’m not going to starve or run out of money. I promise I didn’t spend a dime. Technically.” He glanced at Dipper and shrugged.

“That’s impossible,” Greg argued.

“I know people. I have connections,” Wirt defended.

“That’s even _more_ impossible. You don’t ever leave your house. Except when the fire alarm goes off and you pick up a new boyfriend in the parking lot.” Greg gestured to Dipper. “By offering cooking lessons. In your house. Where you can’t make connections. What did you do to get this?”

Dipper couldn’t fight his grin, barely tried. Never had he seen someone react to one of his signed copies. He hadn’t expected to, and waiting for Greg’s reaction had been a big part of his nerves. Would he like it? Would he care? From the way he demanded answers and clutched it like a priceless object made him want to squirm and gloat.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t. He remembered being seventeen, every secret worth blurting. The last thing he needed was for this bubbling feeling to get him sued, but at least there was one aspect his name was literally all over. “So, uh, flip to the title page. Check ‘illustrated by.’”

Greg lowered the book and did so. “Oh my god.”

Wirt’s grin matched Dipper’s as he gave him a squeeze. “See? I know people. Or person, rather.”

“You’re _dating_ the illustrator? _You’re_ the illustrator!” Greg pointed at Dipper as shock morphed into giddy excitement. “You know Alex Hirsch and you got me a signed copy?”

Dipper shrugged, pressing closer to Wirt’s side. “Well, y’know, he’s not an unreasonable guy, and Wirt said you liked the series, so...” His favorite. Greg had literally called it his favorite. Wow. “Book four’s totally done, by the way. I’m working on the art for that right now.”

Wirt actually giggled when Greg’s mouth fell open and tried to muffle it with his sweater sleeve. “I think we broke him.”

“Shut up!” Greg tried to glower at his brother, but gave up in favor of beaming at them. At Dipper. “You’re so cool. Seriously, you have no idea how much I love these and I tried to get a signed one the last time there was a promotion, but I wasn’t able to, and he never signs in person and- wow! Thank you!” He scrambled to his feet to go over and give him a hug, Wirt having to angle his head away to avoid getting hit by Greg’s elbow, exuberance pouring off him. “I’m not even going to give you the third degree like I was planning on because you’re obviously awesome! You have my permission to date my brother!”

“I-” Heart racing, eyes wide, Dipper gave him a tight squeeze. The boy was so excited over something so simple simply because he liked the books. _His_ books. “Thanks, Greg. I’ll- I’ll absolutely get you a copy of the fourth one,” he promised.

Greg squeezed back, then flopped onto the couch on his other side, sandwiching him between the brothers, so he could grin at him. “Only if it doesn’t bother him or anything. I don’t want you to bother him just for me, but that would be so cool. Oh my god. Wirt! Why didn’t you tell me your boyfriend is the illustrator?”

“Must’ve slipped my mind.” Wirt shrugged, fingers going to the back of Dipper’s neck to knead gently. “And I kinda wanted to see the look on your face when you found out.”

“You’re the best.” Greg’s honesty shone through as he looked at him with all the gratitude he could muster before switching his attention to Dipper. “What’s it like drawing for the chapters? Do you get to draw whatever you want or does Alex or the publisher or whoever tell you what to draw? That’s not very inspiring from an artist’s perspective if that’s how it’s done, but I get that they’ve got a certain idea in mind for what they want, but I bet you have a certain idea in mind, too, right?”

“Oh my gosh, Greg, I thought you weren’t going to give him the third degree,” Wirt laughed.

“Sorry.” Greg flashed him a sheepish grin. “I’m just really excited. You’re like half a celebrity for me.”

“No, it’s- That’s fine. It all depends on the author, really. At least the initial designs. I, uh, I get a copy of the book once it’s finished and read through it. I’m lucky enough to also know what’s going to happen for the next few.” His fingers itched for his sketchbook. At the very least a pencil and sheet of paper so he could show him a little in person. They found Wirt’s hand, gripping tightly.

“I draw a few different images for each chapter - new characters, overarching themes, a piece of a scene that I just like best. It’s all random and what strikes the right chord with me. I send them all off and from there the publisher picks and chooses which design is best. Everything else is used as teaser images to inspire pre-orders or some of it’s used as promotional material. Most of it stays in my sketchbook and is never seen by anyone.”

Wirt squeezed his hand, lacing their fingers together to give him that connection, just as intrigued about his process as his younger brother while the teen wriggled with delight. “Wow. That’s awesome,” Greg exhaled, working on calming down. “Are you not allowed to show the stuff in your sketchbook to people? Or you know, if you had your own website that you could put them up on, does it mess with copyright or something?”

“No, I- I could. For the past books, anyway. It’s not really any different from fanart at that point, and I do have my writing blog. So I absolutely could. I just never- I’ve never thought about it.”

“You should. I want to see them. And other people would, too, but definitely me. And Wirt. Wirt loves the books, too, even though he didn’t think he would at first and just started reading them so I’d stop bugging him about it. Which reminds me! Wirt! You have to take me to the bookstore to get it when it comes out! I’m going to put it on my calendar!”

“Do you even have a calendar?”

“On my phone, duh. I don’t live in the dark ages like you do and rely on the ones where you have to hang it on a wall and flip through the pages to see each month.” Greg stuck his tongue out at Wirt and the older brother - despite being an adult - reciprocated.

“At least mine have nice pictures to look at.”

“Should be sometime around April. I’ll let Wirt know when I get the exact date,” Dipper assured him, looking from one brother to the other. “I could... If I could get my hands on some paper, I could sketch out a teaser for the fourth if you wanted. I don’t mind.”

Greg leapt up in an instant. “I’ve got some in my room!” he exclaimed as he darted down the hall.

“Wow. I have never seen him warm up to someone so fast. I mean, he’s always been friendly and stuff, but he’s also super overprotective when it comes to me and dating.” Wirt looked after him for a minute, then turned his attention to Dipper and leaned in for a warm kiss. “Guess you’re pretty special then. You’ve got Greg’s seal of approval.”

“It’s the books he likes, not me.” Dipper’s hands lifted, tangling in his hair, curling into his sweater. “Oh my god, he really likes the books.”

“He loves the books,” Wirt confirmed, smile soft as his arms wrapped around him. “And yeah, the books are helping him like you, but he’s also pretty perceptive. When he wants to be. He gets that you’re good for me. The fact you can draw him things from your books and get him copies is a perk.”

“I’ve never seen a reaction like that, so I’m more than willing to provide the perks.” His gaze shifted to the side, fingers plucking at the fabric of his sweater. “So... I’m good for you?”

Wirt’s heart skipped a little, ducking his head to watch his fingers as he pursed his lips. “Yeah. You’re good for me.”

“You’re pretty great for me, so it works out,” Dipper admitted, looking up, heart briefly in his eyes before he closed them and drew his boyfriend into a kiss.

On a pleased sigh Wirt sank into it, one hand lifting to stroke his cheek. “Lucky us,” he murmured, his eyes filled with the same when they opened to take him in before Greg burst back into the room with a sketchbook and pencils.

“Oh. Whoops. I can... come back later if you’re busy,” he offered, hesitating in the middle of the room.

Dipper grinned, though his color rose. “It's fine. I mean, we do get to do this whenever we want.”

“Well, not exactly whenever,” Wirt pointed out, but he was smiling as he let it go. His flush was simply too enticing to ignore though, so he quickly brushed his lips to his other cheek as he eased back. “But you do have a point. C’mon, Greg. It’s time to watch the artist at work.”

Once he was waved over, the teen handed Dipper the sketchpad and a pencil. He sat back down on his other side, bringing his new, signed copy with him so he could flip to the signature and little message and reread it. Stay curious. It was short, simple, but that was all it had to be for him. He looked up to exchange a grin with Wirt.

“I take back what I said about offering to teach someone how to cook being the dumbest way to pick someone up,” he told him. “Obviously, it’s the best way.”

Wirt’s cheeks puffed out in indignation. “I wasn’t trying to pick him up by offering, I was trying to be a decent human being. I didn’t have ulterior motives or anything.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

Dipper chuckled, drawing his knees up to balance it. He flipped to the first blank page and began to sketch. It wasn't from the book, though, not yet. He always liked to warm up with people, and he'd fallen hard for one of these brothers and already adored the other. “He offered me cooking lessons and a granola bar. I was powerless against such charms.”

“Oh. He didn't tell me about the granola bar. That's an obvious game changer,” Greg laughed.

“Again, I was being nice.” Wirt leaned back into the couch, head tilted to watch his hand and wrist alternate between long sweeps and fast, little etchings of lead into paper. “I didn't think I had a chance until after the poetry.”

“That's because you're kinda dense and can't really flirt to save your life. But that's okay, Wirt, we love you anyway.” Greg reached behind Dipper to poke the older brother's cheek.

Wirt puffed them up to make it more amusing for the teenager slash child.

“He makes it hard not to,” Dipper absently mused, rubbing the side of his lead to sweep Greg's hair. It wasn't quite as messy as Wirt's, but it still stuck up in places thanks to his shower. Their eyes were similar as well, but that was where the resemblance largely ended. His face was rounder where Wirt tended towards angles. With hair and the outline of his face done, he began filling in features. “It takes a second look to tell that you're related, but the resemblance is definitely there.”

“Yeah?” Greg sat up straight and preened, pleased by the observation and tilted his head to admire Dipper's work.

Wirt flicked his gaze up from the page and compared the sketched lines to his brother's countenance, impressed by the likeness. “Our similarities come out more in our mannerisms, I think. And I think that happens with a lot of siblings. At first glance, they don’t always resemble one another, though that’s not at all the case with you and your sister.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t help that we have different dads, we’re even less likely to look and act like each other,” Greg pointed out, drawing his legs up to sit in the butterfly position. “You have a sister, Dipper?”

“Mabel, yeah. She's in Paris right now, and I should call her soon, considering the time difference.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, flicking his gaze up to Wirt, and put pencil back to the page. These lines were easier than Greg's in their familiarity. “We're twins, actually.”

“Whoa, cool!”

“Just let me know when you want to call her. You can use my old room for some privacy.” Wirt felt his heart flutter as he realized that Dipper was drawing him now, heat creeping into his cheeks. The care that went into the details of his face was both genuine and practiced, like this wasn’t the first time he’d drawn him, and it awed him that he would, stomach filling with butterflies.

“After I’m done messing around and actually get Greg what I promised I’d draw, if that works.” He rubbed his thumb into the pencil lines, shading his hair with smudges. Dipper glanced up, grin spreading when he noted the blush. “It can be a pitstop along the tour you promised me.”

Wirt swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Speaking of your room, you should take a picture of it before you go,” Greg piped up. “Mom’s finally ready to turn it completely into a guest room so she and Dad are going to start putting in new carpet and throw away the rest of your junk that you haven’t taken yet and stuff.”

“She says that every year.”

“Well, she said she means it this time.”

“She says _that_ every year, too.” Wirt placed his hand on Dipper’s knee and squeezed it.

Dipper looked back and forth between them, gaze settling on his boyfriend. “Wait. Your old bedroom is still basically your bedroom?”

“Yeah. For the most part. Most of my stuff is in the apartment now and the bed sheets are different, but other than that it hasn’t really been touched,” Wirt explained. “I know it seems kinda silly, especially since it’s a pretty… dated, weird-looking room, but I guess Mom’s sentimental about it. I don’t know.”

“No, I don’t think it’s silly. It’s kind of great, actually.” Dipper dropped his gaze, carefully shading a blush above the smile he’d drawn on Wirt’s face. “Our parents turned our rooms into an office and home gym while we were still in college. Right before winter break of our last year.”

Satisfied with his work on the brothers, he scrawled his name - the signature vastly different from the one he used for his penname - and tore the page from the book. It was set on the coffee table since he was fairly certain that neither of them would want to take it and the end of the pencil was stuck into his mouth to be chewed on as he gazed at the next blank page in thought. What could he draw that wouldn’t be an overwhelming spoiler? What would Greg want to see?

Something clicked in his mind and he nodded. If the kid really did love this series, he’d appreciate a fresh hint to the series main, as yet unintroduced villain. “Greg, do you have a gold colored pencil? And red, if you’ve got it.”

“Yeah, definitely!” Greg hopped up to fetch them. “I’ll bring the whole box!”

A shoebox filled with various colored pencils was set on the coffee table, the sketch of the brothers plucked up by the younger in exchange while Wirt started rifling through the box to find the gold and red colors. He handed them both to his boyfriend, curious to see what he had planned.

“Can I keep this one, too?” Greg asked Dipper. “Unless Wirt wants it. No, wait, even if he does want it, I want it more.”

He blinked, taken aback. “Uh. Yeah. I mean- They’re just-” Dipper cleared his throat. These brothers were going to kill him with their compliments. “If you want it, you can have it.”

“Yeah, I want it! You made us look awesome and noticed that we look related!” Greg grinned at him. “If I was the kinda guy that framed things, I’d frame it.”

Dipper scoffed at that, ducking his head to hide the color stealing across his face. “I didn’t make you look awesome,” he muttered, beginning the next sketch. “I just drew you both how you look.”

While Wirt’s lips quirked up, Greg just scoffed right back. “Yeah, but you didn’t _have_ to draw us how we look. You could’ve drawn us like those caricature people at boardwalks and fairs and stuff and made Wirt’s nose and ears look even more giant than they already are.”

“Gee thanks, Greg.”

“Anytime, brother o’ mine!”

Laughing, Dipper began to sketch Maalik first, crouched down, a hand hovering above one splayed on the ground. The arm disappeared at the bottom of the page, but he snagged the red pencil to shade the victim’s blood. “They’re not giant. They suit his very cute face. And caricatures aren’t my thing anyway. They’re more Mabel’s.”

“She draws, too?” Greg inquired, watching him work, interest piqued at the sight of the blood. “Whoa.”

“Mabel is a self-proclaimed arts and crafts master, and no one’s ever going to debate that.” Dipper caught his tongue between his teeth, mentally mapping out the rest of the drawing. “She’s a million times better than I am, that’s for sure.”

Maalik’s shadow stretched out to form a man’s silhouette. A dagger was held in its hand, and Dipper dashed red across the blade’s edge, a single drop threatening to fall. He shaded the silhouette in entirely but for its eyes. One was like a snake’s, golden sclera and narrow pupil. Where the other eye should have been he placed a pyramid.

With a hum, he scrawled the title off to the side and dashed his signature in the bottom corner. “There.”

“This is officially the new best day of my life so far,” Greg declared solemnly, placing his hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “Thank you.” The facade immediately fell as he laughed. “Oh boy! I can’t wait for the next book! It’s gonna be the best one yet, I just know it!”

“You’ve said that about all of them.” Wirt dropped his chin to his other shoulder now that he’d finished.

“And I’m always right.”

“It’s definitely an intense one, I’ll say that much.” He tipped his head, resting his cheek against Wirt, and passed the sketchbook back to its owner. “You’ll find out why in April.”

“Can it be April now?”

Wirt chuckled and nuzzled his boyfriend. “Isn’t anticipation half the fun?”

Greg stared at him for a beat, then repeated: “Can it be April now?”

Dipper grinned. “And skip Christmas? No way, man.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s true. And we can’t skip my birthday either. Okay. We can just skip March then.” Greg nodded to himself.

“When you find a time machine to make that happen, let me know.” Dipper turned his head, pressing a kiss to Wirt’s hair. “So... about that tour. I think I’ve earned it.”

“Mm. Do you?” Wirt hid his smile against his shoulder, nudging him as his fingers found Dipper’s hand to hold onto.

“Absolutely. Pretty sure I just helped you cement brother of the year.” Dipper gave his hand a squeeze, glancing at the teenager. “Didn’t I, Greg?”

The younger brother gave him a thumbs up. “Best brother of the year, definitely.”

Wirt chuckled and squeezed back. “Well, in that case…” He stood up from the couch, leaving their hands connected. “Let’s go start a tour. Please save any and all questions for the end.”

The Palmer-Whelan house really wasn’t all that large. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were all part of their own relatively open floor plan, the door to the backyard off the same wall as the living room’s fireplace, and aside from that the rest of the rooms were down a hallway. Greg followed as Wirt led Dipper along it, various framed photos decorating both sides. Some were of the boys individually and others depicted the family at different points in time, though the earliest of Wirt seemed to be him as a teenager.

Greg showed off his room when they came to it first, the pale, mint colored walls out of place for a teenage boy’s bedroom, but with the amount of posters for bands and the dark blue color scheme throughout, it seemed to fit him just fine. Instruments littered the room, two guitars sat in one corner and a ukulele on his dresser with a collection of drumsticks. There was a keyboard shoved up against one wall and sling-harness snare drum sat on the foot of his bed.

“I play a lot of instruments,” Greg explained cheekily. “In case you couldn’t tell.”

Wirt’s room was across the way and the office right next to it, while the master was at the very end of the hall. “So, if you want to call Mabel, feel free to in here.” He nudged the door to his old room open further, revealing red-orange carpet and beige walls - all except one which was made of vertical wood panelling.

“Thanks. I just want it to still be Thanksgiving when I call her, y'know?”

“Yeah, of course.” Wirt lifted his hand to brush his lips to his knuckles. “Take as long as you need. Family’s important. I get that.”

“It probably won’t be that long. Just want to see how her meeting went.” Dipper retrieved his phone with his free hand. “Um. You can come in, too. I mean, she’ll probably want to say hi to you anyway since she knows I’m here.”

“Okay. If you don’t mind.” Wirt followed him in, glancing back over his shoulder at Greg. “Why don’t you go see if Mom and Jonathan need any help?”

“I’m not a kid, Wirt, I get when you’re trying to get rid of me.” Greg waved it off, sauntering back through the hall towards the kitchen.

“Very perceptive, your brother.” While Wirt closed the door, Dipper grabbed an international calling card from his wallet, dialing quickly and bouncing impatiently as the instructions prattled on. He wandered around the room, switching it to speaker when his sister finally answered.

“Morning, bro-bro! Are you having a good Thanksgiving with your adorable boyfriend and his probably equally adorable family? Do they use real sweet potatoes or canned? Also, are you actually going to eat pie this year?” She gasped. “Did you watch the Macy’s Day parade?!”

He laughed. “Yes, they smell real, maybe, I set it to record but I missed it. Also, the adorable boyfriend is also in the room.”

“Ooh, good. Hi, adorable boyfriend!”

“Hi, Mabel.” Wirt sat down on the edge of his bed with a soft laugh and light blush, rubbing the back of his neck. “Happy Thanksgiving. And yes, we use real sweet potatoes.”

“Good! They’re Dipper’s favorite, but canned are gross. And happy Thanksgiving! To both of you. I’m so jealous that you get to actually have real Thanksgiving food. I had duck at my meeting. It was so not the same.”

“See? This is what happens when you don’t come home.” Dipper wandered over to his boyfriend, dusting light kisses over his blush. “How’d the meetings go?”

“Wonderfully! Not only did I not lose a sponsor, I gained two new ones! _And_ there’s talks of me finally getting my clothes line in US stores.”

He gasped, wriggling against his boyfriend and nuzzling him like a happy kitten. “Seriously?”

“Yes! And you know once that happens, I can base there and goodbye crazy travel schedule.” Her laugh spilled from the speakers. “Of course this happens _after_ you and your decision to stop jetsetting with me and become a recluse.”

“I’m not a recluse, shut up.”

“Wirt, does he ever leave the apartment unless he sets it on fire first?”

“Wow.”

Wirt grinned, scrunching his nose as he rubbed it to Dipper’s. “He does. I can attest to that personally. He visited me at work. He’s taken me to dinner.”

“I did hear about Northwest's and my little brother wearing a suit like a real grown-up.”

“Little-? Shut up, Mabel. It's five minutes.” Eyes rolling, he pressed a kiss to the wrinkle of his nose and straightened to resume exploring his childhood bedroom.

“Five minutes of me being older.”

“Whatever.”

“There's no whatever when I'm right.”

“What. Ever.” She giggled, a yawn cutting through the noise, and Dipper's scowl shifted to a fond smile. “Your new sponsors tire you out?”

“Some.”

He set the phone atop Wirt's old dresser. “Go to bed, then. I've probably kept the adorable boyfriend away from his family long enough.”

“Okay. I love you, Dipdop. See you next week.”

“You'd better.”

She laughed. “No more last minute meetings, I promise. So happy Thanksgiving! Bye, guys!”

After Wirt and Dipper said their goodbyes, Dipper shut off his phone and kicked up some dust on the dresser. “Thanks. If Greg gets his hands on a time machine, I'm using it to skip to next week. I miss her like crazy.”

“I don’t blame you. It’s not easy being away from people you love.” Wirt stood up and took a step towards him, deterred momentarily by the dust.

“Yeah, well-” It happened before he could stop it, the dust tickling his nose. His sneeze was quick, the sound light and soft and absolutely mortifying. Dipper quickly clapped his hands over his face, but it didn't quite muffle the two squeaky sneezes that followed. _Oh, no._

Wirt couldn’t even attempt to hide his smile, the surprisingly sweet sounds just too… sweet. The fact that he looked so embarrassed by them only delighted him further. “Bless you,” he told him, with a slight quaver in his voice as he tried not to laugh, hand covering his mouth. “Oh boy, you’re so adorable. You sneeze like a kitten or something. It’s cute.”

He tried to glare, but his next sneeze ruined it. He shuffled away from the dust, lips settling into a pout. “I am _not_ a kitten.”

“I didn’t say you _were_ a kitten, I said you were like a-” Wirt cut himself off, eyes lighting up as a slow smirk curled his lips. “Kitten.”

“I don't think I really like that look right now.”

Wirt bounced on the balls of his feet, hands going to his hips as he continued to look far too satisfied with himself. “Kitten. It’s kitten. You’re kitten.”

He’d been trying different “cutesy” nicknames for him for days, trying to get a reaction out of him like his for “babe,” but Dipper had only been amused by his efforts, encouraging the ridiculous attempts to get back at him. Wirt had a very good feeling that he wouldn’t want to encourage this particular nickname though, already defensive. Already disgruntled. Like a grumpy, little kitten. Wirt’s smirk became more of a giddy grin the more he thought about it, mentally patting himself on the back and thanking the layer of dust that coated his old dresser.

“What are- No.” Realization dawned, Dipper shaking his head quickly. “Absolutely not. No. I'm not- That doesn't even make sense. No.”

“Yes.” Wirt bounced again. “Absolutely yes.”

“Oh my god, no. I'm not. That's literally the worst petname in the entire world. You can't just- No. You just- You should just stop trying to come up with nicknames forever. I mean, you're bad at it. That's awful.”

“No, it’s perfect. Now you know exactly how I feel.” Wirt clasped his hands behind him innocently as he swayed from side to side. “I won’t have to call you kitten if you stop calling me babe though. I am open to a truce.”

“That’s not a truce,” he protested. “That’s the worst! Babe makes sense. Kitten is just painful. Oh my god.”

“It’s totally a truce. Babe is gross. It’s like what creepy guys call out to young girls on the street. Actually kitten is kinda like that, too, huh? Well, even more perfect then. They’re pretty much equally the worst.” Wirt shrugged.

“No.” Dipper opened his mouth to protest further, but another sneeze had him flailing his hands. “I’m leaving, oh my god. You just- Babe’s a habit already, and kitten’s not going to _be_ a habit. Nope. No.” Wirt would slip up, surely. There was no way it was going to stick. Petnames never stuck with him.

“It’s too late, kitten. It’s happening. I am making it habit right now. Habits have to start somewhere, right? And that somewhere is here. Today. Also bless you again, do you need a tissue or something?”

“Oh my _god_. I’m fine. Don’t call me that. I’m not going to answer to it.”

Wirt laughed. “Oh my gosh, you sound just like me, you do realize that, right?”

“I-” Dipper broke off, cheeks coloring. “Crap.”

Pressing his lips together, still grinning like a fool, Wirt sidled over to him and wrapped his arms around his waist. “All you have to do to get out of this is stop calling me babe. It’s a small price to pay, don’t you think?” He nuzzled his neck, brushing his lips to it in a soft kiss.

“Mm.” Pouting again, Dipper wriggled against him. He liked calling him babe, and Wirt’s protests weren’t vehement so much as automatic at this point. It was totally different. “You’ll cave before I will.”

“Mm-mm.” Wirt pressed two more kisses to his jaw before shooting him a pleased look. “I’ve been told I can be _pretty_ stubborn.”

“Yeah?” So had he. He couldn’t resist dropping a kiss to that smug mouth, as annoyed by the petname as he was. “We’ll see about that.”

Wirt gave him a squeeze as he pulled him closer. “We certainly will,” he hummed and drew him in for another kiss. “ _Kitten_.”

Dipper’s protest was muffled in the kiss, much more interested in kissing him than arguing over petnames. Especially since he was going to win in the long run. “Babe,” he purred, nipping his bottom lip.

His shudder was more from the way his teeth grazed him rather than the petname, but Wirt played it up as such. “Oh yeah. Definitely not going to cave.”

He didn’t miss a single opportunity the entire day. Every time “babe” left Dipper’s lips, Wirt retaliated with “kitten” and enjoyed it far more than really necessary. It actually made his own petname worth it. Instead of overdramatic cringes or unimpressed stares, he was laughing and cuddling up to him to coo the word that offended Dipper right against his ear. Even in front of his family. He said he wasn’t going to cave and he meant it. He was not losing this.

“I didn’t know Wirt was into petnames,” Jonathan mused curiously when the couple and Greg wound up in the kitchen for some last minute snacking before dinner.

“He’s not,” Greg informed him, having caught onto the terms of the battle easily. “But this is war and Wirt doesn’t go down without a fight.”

“Not when I have something to fight for,” Wirt added, lifting his chin high as he placed his hand over his heart. “I believe in my cause. It is a just one.”

“Just awful, maybe.” Dipper stole a cherry from one of the small dishes, sticking his tongue out at his boyfriend before popping it into his mouth. “Just give it up, babe.”

Wirt stuck his tongue out right back, waiting for Dipper to grab another cherry before snatching it from him. “Never. I’ll never give it up, kitten.”

“Cherry thief. That’s just mean.” He took another, stem and all going into his mouth as he leaned back against a counter.

Chewing on his, or the one he stole rather, stem held between his fingers, Wirt lifted an eyebrow. “You eat the stems?”

It only took a second for Dipper to remove the neatly knotted stem from his mouth. “Nah. Just a trick that turned into a habit.”

Wirt stared at him while Greg burst out laughing, digging his elbow into the older brother’s side. “I didn’t even think people could actually do that!” he cackled.

“That’s- no. No, you seriously did not just tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue,” Wirt protested as his cheeks warmed, his own tongue and other parts of his body well-aware of just how talented Dipper was with that particular muscle.

“He totally did.” Greg grinned at him. “Is your boyfriend a good kisser, Wirt? Huh? That why you’re blushing?”

“No. I mean- no, that’s not- I’m not blushing. That’s what the no was for. He’s a fine kisser.” Wirt grabbed another cherry and stuck it in his mouth to keep from talking any more, flicking the stem at his brother’s head.

Dipper snickered, resisting the urge to take another for himself. “I only figured it out because someone said it was impossible. Now it’s almost compulsive. If I’ve got cherries, I’ve gotta do it at least once.” He tipped his head to the side, mischief clear in the eyes that landed on his boyfriend. “Want to see me do it again... babe?”

Wirt’s cheeks puffed out as he tried to glower at him, ignoring the way Greg snickered as his blush only darkened. “No,” he lied, but he couldn’t leave it at that, not with the babe hanging between them. “That’s… not necessary, kitten.”

Even his step-dad was cracking up at this point. “That’s dedication. I think you might actually win the war, Wirt.”

“Nah. Wirt will keep it up for a week maybe and then get sick of how cutesy it sounds,” Greg countered as he slipped out of the kitchen. “Or maybe Dipper will tie enough cherry stems to break Wirt’s brain.”

“My brain’s unbreakable.”

“We’ll see about that. As much as I like your brain, sometimes sacrifices must be made. I mean, all’s fair in love and war.” Dipper straightened, crossing to his boyfriend to bob up and kiss his cheek. “If you start behaving, maybe later I’ll show you another trick my tongue can do,” he whispered and nipped his earlobe before abandoning him to grab a soda from the fridge.

“Behav- wha- I- you’ll-” Wirt stammered, heart thudding as his stomach erupted with butterflies. “I’m- I’m going to the couch.” With a huff, he stalked out of the kitchen after his brother.

“I don’t know how you did it,” Jonathan piped up, opening the oven to check on the turkey, gaze flicking to Dipper. “But you’ve completely won him over. I have to say, I’m impressed.”

“You- I mean, um...” Dipper took a drink, giving himself a moment. “You think so?”

Satisfied with the internal temperature the thermometer showed, Jon pulled the bird out to set it on the stove. “I do,” he replied, leaving the oven mitts on as he offered him a smile. “He’s comfortable with you. Coming from someone who knows firsthand how he acts when he’s not, it’s good to see. It’s not easy to earn.”

“That’s... That’s really good to hear. Thanks. I want him be comfortable with me. I’m not always comfortable around people either, but he’s- He’s not like other people.” His gaze dropped, smile small and quietly shy. “And he’s really important to me.”

Jonathan nodded. “Good. Good, because it’s clear you’re important to him, too. You seem like a stand-up guy, Dipper. You seem like the kind of man my kid deserves.” He started placing the sweet potatoes, stuffing, vegetables, and rolls in the oven to warm them. “And it’s not easy to make me think that either. I just hope dinner with us doesn’t scare you off. Or Greg, for that matter,” he chuckled, adding a little more lightness to the conversation.

“Nah. I’m used to having somebody with Greg’s energy levels around. And you and Amy are nothing but great, so I think we’re good.” He tipped the can towards him with a grin before taking another sip. “Unless you want any help or anything, I’m gonna go see if Wirt’s less mortified.”

“I’m sure he’s not. Go on and check on him though. Just gonna wait until turkey’s ready for carving.” Jon gestured at the bird. “You can let him and Greg know that dinner will be ready in T-minus twenty minutes.”

“Seeing how Greg’s spent more than twice that whining about his empty stomach, don’t be surprised if you hear cheers.” Dipper walked out, flashing Amy a grin as he passed her.

“I will be very disappointed if I don’t hear any cheering! Everyone should want this food!” Jon called after him.

“Woo!” Greg hollered from the couch, looking to Dipper with a fist pumped in the air. “Yeah, I want food! But where is it and why isn’t it ready yet?”

Dipper laughed, sinking down beside his boyfriend. “Twenty minutes. Then we can eat.” He nuzzled Wirt’s neck, banding an arm around his waist. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself,” he hummed, attempting to ignore the snuggling for all of five seconds before giving in. Wirt leaned against him and turned to brush his lips to his temple, just below his cap.

Pleased to find him not overly irritated with him, Dipper lifted his head to brush their lips together. “Thanks for letting me tag along. I really like your family,” he murmured.

“You do?” There wasn’t any irritation at all, Wirt’s expression lighting up as he cupped Dipper’s cheek. “That’s… I’m glad. I hoped you would. I wanted them to like you, too. And they do, just so you know. Trust me, you’d know if they didn’t.”

“They definitely give off that impression. It’s always the nice ones who can be the most scary.” He tipped his head, lifting a hand to cover Wirt’s and keep it in place. “I’ll do my best to stay on their good side.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Wirt let their lips meet in a soft kiss. “But don’t worry about it too much. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Being you.”

“I might be able to manage that.” Dipper turned his head, pressing his lips to his palm. He wanted to be the kind of man that Wirt deserved, the kind that he wanted around his family.

He was the kind of man that fit right in, really. As the Palmer-Whelans made a place for Dipper at their table and sat down for Thanksgiving, they each did their part to include him. Greg demanded to sit on Dipper’s other side - the side that Wirt wasn’t on - and Amy made sure he got a large helping of sweet potatoes while Jon regaled the table with the story of how he invited Amy and Wirt to spend Christmas with his family after only officially dating her for two and a half weeks, claiming it was clearly good luck to spend the holidays together early on.

Both Greg and Wirt interjected now and then, the younger brother reciting the story from memory and cracking lame jokes while the older constantly reminded his step-father, “I know, Jonathan, I was _there_.” They didn’t pry, at least nothing major aside from about his job, how long he’d lived in the city, if he liked it, how his sister was, and left conversations open for him to jump into if he wanted or to listen and soak up the information they had to offer him. It was relaxed, casual, just a family enjoying time together.

Though Amy did insist on pictures after dinner.

“Greg, don’t fuss about it, you know we do this every year. It really shouldn’t come as a surprise,” she chided her youngest as he groaned.

“Exactly, Mom. Every year. Wirt’s looked the same for the past four years and one day I will, too. Can’t you just use the pictures from last year and pretend that they’re this year’s?”

She rolled her eyes while he slumped further and further into his chair. “No pictures, no pie.”

“In that case, where would you like me to stand, mother o’ mine? Where is the lighting best?” Greg batted his lashes at her.

Wirt snorted as he scraped the last of his sweet potatoes from his plate, gaze flicking to the casserole dish as he debated whether or not he would be able to squeeze in one more helping and still want pie later. He compromised with half a helping, flashing Dipper a grin as he reached across him for one more roll, too. “We can take a picture, too, if you want. You and me. Or you can sit out, it’s up to you.”

“I don't mind. It's actually weird not having a camera constantly in my face.”

“Shh. Don’t let her hear that.” Wirt lowered his voice as he pointed to his mom. “She won’t waste a second trying to remedy that.”

“Wirt, I can hear you.”

Greg snickered. “Who’s the perfect child now?”

“The child that clears the table and sits still for pictures,” she replied.

His smirk fell. “Well, guess it’s still Wirt. Yep. Congrats, brother o’ mine.”

Dipper leaned back in his chair, grin wide. A hand fell to Wirt's thigh, kneading gently. Greg's shoulder was given a poke. “You give in so easily.”

Greg grinned sheepishly. “I just don’t want to do the dishes,” he told him at the same time Wirt said, “He just doesn’t want to do the dishes,” then continued, “I will gladly give up being perfect child to get out of doing that.”

“Dishes are easy, especially since Wirt washes. That's the worst part.”

“Yeah, well you’re lucky and get to have him wash your dishes since he lives in your apartment building. I have to do the washing _and_ the drying all the time here.”

Wirt rolled his eyes. “Oh, poor Greg.”

“You’d be able to get out of doing the dishes if you started cooking dinner,” Amy pointed out with a chuckle.

“Uh-huh. We’d be living off boxes of macaroni and cheese and Kid Cuisine if I did the cooking.”

Placing his hand over the one on his thigh, Wirt gave it a squeeze as he glanced sidelong at Dipper. “Better than living off take-out and pizza.”

“Wow, babe. Wow.” Dipper turned his hand, their palms meeting. “There are basically zero dishes when cooking's not an option, so that's obviously the best route.”

“Mm, you’re saying you’d rather do that than have cooking lessons with me, kitten?” Wirt raised an eyebrow, lips quirked up. “Alright then.”

Dipper grinned despite the petname, bumping their shoulders together. “Now you're just twisting my words, and that's rude.”

“Well, when you say _best_ route it just makes me feel that that’s something you’d rather be doing,” he continued, bumping back.

“Brat.”

Wirt laughed, then kissed his cheek while Greg snorted. “Wow, Dipper. Great comeback. Ten out of ten, would debate with again.”

“I’m going into a food coma. I shouldn’t have to come up with stellar comebacks. Simple facts should suffice,” he defended.

“Think your food coma will still allow you to help me dry dishes and pack leftovers?” Wirt poked his stomach.

Wary of the poke, he shifted in his chair but avoided bringing as much attention to that as possible. He was already dealing with “kitten.” Being ticklish didn’t need to be added to the list of mortifying things Wirt was going to learn about him that day. “Maybe. What do I get in exchange?”

“You’ll get to eat some of the leftovers.”

“Done!” He grinned at the boys’ parents. “If you guys don’t mind losing some extras.”

“I always make sure Wirt takes enough back to have at least three more mini Thanksgivings,” Amy replied with her own smile. “Plus a pie for that sweet tooth of his.”

“I don’t have a sweet tooth.” Wirt rolled his eyes. “I just… appreciate dessert.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days? Dessert appreciation?” Greg couldn’t help giggling, watching Wirt stand up and start gathering the plates, handing his over when he reached for it.

Wirt shrugged it off, balancing the stack of plates with both hands. “Laugh all you want, brother o’ mine, I’m standing by my statement. Dessert appreciation can be a thing.”

“Well, I appreciate you taking care of the dishes,” Jonathan chimed in. “We can do pictures when you’re done.”

“Be careful not to get food or water all over your nice sweater,” Amy called after him.

“Aw.” Dipper grinned, gathering empty glasses. “There goes my plan to spray him with the sink hose.”

“You can do that after,” Jon assured him.

His laughter carried him into the kitchen where he immediately banded his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, hugging him from behind after setting the glasses in the sink. “I’ve been given permission to soak you after pictures.”

“You do and I’ll hide the sweet potatoes from you,” Wirt replied with a laugh, leaning back into him. “You’ll have to wait until next Thanksgiving.”

“That’s mean.” Smiling, he buried his face between his shoulder blades. “But you’re forgetting that your landlord is my grunkle, so I’ve got access to keys. I’ll break in while you’re at school and leave you the empty container.”

“I have a mini fridge in the classroom. I’ll just take them with me every time I leave the house,” he snickered, turning the water on to get it warm as he doused the plates with soap.

“Mm. I’ll have to come distract you and steal them while you’re recovering.” He lifted to pepper the back of his neck with light kisses. “That might be more fun, actually.”

Wirt closed his eyes, humming his agreement as his head tipped forward. “Yeah, might be. Maybe I will let you spray me. Just to see how it all plays out.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Dipper lightly nipped his neck, giving him a squeeze before letting go to find a good rag to dry the dishes his boyfriend was washing.

****

\----

****

They weren’t going to get back until well after two in the morning, but that sat fine with Wirt as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, the dark freeway stretched ahead of them. Every so often the headlights of other cars would illuminate Dipper’s face, soft with sleep and contentment, his turn to have the passenger seat reclined with his hands resting over his stomach as if still sated from the meal. Their leftovers and extra pie were in a cooler in the backseat, Wirt unable to hide his smile as he’d watched his mom make sure to pack extra sweet potatoes for them before she slipped him her recipe.

“I like him, Wirt,” she’d told him as they finished setting aside their food while his boyfriend took a moment to call the rest of his family to wish them a happy Thanksgiving after pictures were taken - both serious and silly ones filling the memory card of his mom’s camera that she promised to email him as he realized he and Dipper didn’t really have any pictures together yet.

“Yeah?” Wirt had smiled at her, relief palpable, as he helped her get out the cherry, apple, and pumpkin pies from the fridge. “Good. Good, because I like him, too. A lot. Like a lot, a lot.”

“I can see that,” she’d laughed. “You’ve smiled more today than I’ve seen in a while.”

He’d paused with the pumpkin pie in hand. “Mom-”

“I know you’re doing fine. I know teaching is going well and I know that you’re fine,” she was quick to add on, taking the pie from him, unable to make eye contact for a minute. “But I don’t want you to just be fine, sweetheart. I want you to be happy, to have something to look forward to aside from getting to see us from time to time. That’s not enough, and don’t argue with me on that, you and I both know it’s true.”

She looked him in eye as she held up a finger to stop whatever protest he had, mouth already open to vocalize it. “I think this relationship could be a good start though. To being enough. I think Dipper’s reminding you what it’s like to have fun again. To smile and not get so caught up in your own head the way you tend to.” She cupped his cheeks. “That’s a good thing, Wirt. That’s the kind of person you need in your life.”

“I know,” his reply was brusque, defensive, but he caught himself after a beat. “No, I know things are different with him. I can’t really explain it, but whatever it is, I like it. I like him. I want him around me all the time and it’s like- it hasn’t ever been that way before. I mean, it has, but not… not because I’m _happy_. You know?”

She’d folded him into her arms, hugging him like he was a child - he still was, in a way, he was her child - and he let her coddle him for a minute or two. “I do. I hope you enjoy your time with him, I really do. I hope you take care of each other. You’ve got my support in this, Wirt. It definitely eases my worries some knowing you have a man like Dipper to keep an eye on you when none of us can. And I know you’re keeping an eye on him, too.”

“Keeping him from being run out of the apartment building by angry tenants with torches and pitchforks, maybe,” Wirt huffed out a laugh.

“Whatever keeps him fed and with a roof over his head, I suppose,” she’d chuckled, then kissed his forehead as she let him go. “Just be yourself with him, sweetheart. Don’t feel pressured to be what you think he needs or wants, because I think it’s pretty clear from the way he looks at you that _you_ are what he wants right now. Just you.”

Wirt pursed his lips, another little defensive bristle wanting to creep up along his spine, but he brushed it aside and nodded, offering her a smile. “He’s all I want right now, too.”

That continued to ring true as he glanced from the windshield when Dipper wriggled, rolling onto his side to face him with a sleepy huff-like sigh, still completely out of it. Wirt’s lips quirked up and he turned the music a touch lower. He’d let him sleep, he deserved it. He’d not only survived Thanksgiving with his family, but he’d won them all over despite his nerves. It wasn’t the first time he’d made the drive from his childhood home to the apartment in one go, but it was the first time he made it feeling content. Happy. Honestly thankful for something.

Head over heels in love with someone.

Because there was just no way he couldn’t be after today, no matter how early on in their relationship it might be. He was already pretty sure he loved him after they'd slept together, but after seeing him with his family, with Greg and his step-dad and his mom, there was no more “pretty sure” at all in the equation. He was absolutely sure and that didn’t scare him at all. It felt good.

It felt right.

“Thank you, Dipper,” he murmured quietly, intent on showing him just how thankful he was for him once they were home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> teen!Greg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hope you all were as excited by him and to have him in this as I [syl] was, lol. He's an utter fucking delight <33333333


	7. Chapter 7

His excitement was palpable. A week after Thanksgiving, Dipper and Wirt sat on a bench as close to the gate as security would allow. It was just after five on a Thursday, and Dipper squirmed in absolute delight as he gave his boyfriend’s hand a squeeze. “Thanks. I know I keep saying it, but thanks for coming. I can’t believe she’s coming home.”

Missing her had been a constant ache. They'd never truly been apart from one another before, not like this. Even their colleges had been close. They had needed one another. Even though Dipper's heart had been craving something like a solid home, a place to call his own, and Mabel's had continued to explore the world, he couldn't deny the desire to go right back to following her. He lifted Wirt's hand to his lips, biting back more babbled gratitude when her flight was called over the intercom. Landing. She was landing. “Oh my god.”

He looked at Wirt, biting his lip. “I- I’m sorry. I know I’m making the biggest idiot out of myself right now. I mean, who gets this excited to see their sister, right? It’s just been months, and I’ve really missed her and- She’s coming _home_ , Wirt.” He bounced in place like a child rather than a grown man, and scanned the crowd despite it still being too early for his twin to have unboarded her plane.

Wirt squeezed his hand, holding it with both of his own. “You’re not,” he assured him with a laugh, delighted by him. “You’re completely adorable. Of course you’re excited to see her. She’s your sister and you’ve missed her. Be as excited as you want.”

“You don’t know what you’re giving permission for here,” he warned, but still tried to reign himself in somewhat. He pressed against his side to keep from bouncing, but only ended up wriggling against him like the kitten Wirt was still calling him.

With a grin, Wirt released his hands to wrap his arms around him, a playful attempt to still his wriggling. “I think I can handle it.”

He nuzzled Dipper’s neck, leaving light, nipping kisses behind, both because he couldn’t resist him like this as well as to distract himself from his own nerves fluttering about. While he had talked to Mabel before, it would be a very different thing meeting her in person. Hopefully her impression of him being the “adorable boyfriend” wouldn’t change too drastically.

The kisses settled him even as they made him giggle, Dipper unable to bite back the mortifying sound as his mood stayed high. He, too, knew that meeting Mabel wasn’t the same as seeing her in person, and he was as nervous about Wirt’s opinion of her as he was Mabel’s opinion of him. He needed his twin on his side, to see how he could love this man as much as he did. “If she offers to make you a sweater, you’re in. Just so you know.”

“Thanks for the heads up. My heart will be able to rest easy once I’m assured an addition to my collection of sweaters.” He lifted his head, biting his own lip at Dipper’s giggles before stealing a quick kiss. “You think… you think she’ll like me? I mean, we’ve talked but that’s- that’s way different. And she’s super important to you, so I- I don’t know. I really want her to.”

“She will.” She had to. Dipper cupped his cheeks, rubbing their noses together. “Mabel... gets people, you know? As long as it’s not someone she wants to date - she’s awful at that. But anybody else, she gets. She’ll absolutely like you, babe. There’s not a lot here to dislike.”

“So you say, kitten.” His nose couldn’t help wrinkling, and he only made it more pronounced for his boyfriend’s amusement. “But okay. Thanks. I’m just… a little nervous, I guess. Don’t let me bring down your excitement though. Go back to your bouncing and happy dance.”

“The last person who should make you nervous is Mabel.” He wiggled, arms winding around his neck. “I really hope you like her too.”

“Pretty sure there’s no way I won’t if she makes you this happy and she’s not even here yet.”

“I give her five minutes before she annoys me.” Dipper gave him a delighted kiss before scanning the crowd again. “She’s the best worst person, though, and-” He broke off, straightening. “Wait. Wait. _Wait_. Mabel!” he called, voice cracking on the name as though he were a teenager again.

It was answered with a squeal and Dipper gave Wirt a hard kiss before bolting. She was in his arms before she stopped squealing, the thrilled sound only continuing when he lifted her clear off her feet and spun. “Dipper, oh my gosh!” She cupped his cheeks before throwing her arms around his neck and rubbing her cheek against his with all the affection in the world. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!”

“You’re _home_!” He spun her again, sending Wirt a bright grin over her shoulder.

He returned it, heart swelling at the reunion. Their combined joy and adoration was impossible to avoid being affected by, the energy buzzing around them both. Wirt was happy for them, oh boy, was he. It was hard enough to be apart from loved ones in any capacity, he knew that firsthand, but at least his family was still in the same country, the same timezone. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Dipper and his sister, especially since they grew up together. He was getting a taste of the result of that now though, a glimpse into how much they really had missed each other. It was good to see Dipper’s excitement reciprocated.

Wirt stood up and made his way over to them, content to wait in the wings as they reveled in this moment of togetherness after months of not. Especially with his nerves renewed. Yeah, he really wanted this important, effervescent person in his boyfriend’s life to approve of him.

Mabel turned her head, noting her twin’s inattention, and gasped. “You brought him!”

“Yeah.”

“Put me down!”

“No.”

“You’re such a brat.” Mabel laughed, waving. “Hi, Wirt! I’d hug you too, but Dipper’s being selfish.”

“Yep.” She considered all of one second before her fingers dug into his sides. He very literally squeaked and dropped her. “ _Mabel_!”

“Never forget that I know all your weaknesses, bro-bro!” Beaming, she spun and threw her arms around Wirt for a tight squeeze. “Oh my gosh, you’re so tall and even more adorable in person!” she gushed.

“Oh- um- thank you?” The hug threw him for a moment, but his arms found themselves hugging back, albeit hesitantly, as he chuckled breathlessly. “And you’re even bouncier in person. Um. Hi, Mabel. It’s good to officially meet you.”

“I should’ve warned you about that.” The twins exchanged glances and matching grins. “Don’t break my boyfriend, Mabel. I want to keep this one.”

She giggled, pressing a kiss to Wirt’s cheek before bouncing back to her twin. For a moment, they both stilled and settled into the hug they gave each other. “I love you, Dipper.”

“Love you too, Mabel.” She dropped her cheek to his shoulder, so he buried his face in her curls. “I missed you.”

As one, they lifted their hands and gave eacher two solid pats on the back. “Pat, pat!” was chimed in unison and their energy shot right back up, laughter spilling out. Dipper swung her back up to spin.

“I need to get my bags! And go see Grunkle Stan.  And call Pacifica! I still need to get that picture she took of you.”

Dipper’s cheeks burned. “She did _not_ take a picture.”

“Dipper Pines in a fancy suit? You bet she took a picture!” She linked her arm with Dipper’s, immediately hooking the other around Wirt’s. “Come on, boys! Ooh! We should go dancing.”

“Wirt works tomorrow.”

“We should go dancing tomorrow night. It’s settled. We’re going.”

“Mabel, no.”

“Mabel, yes. Dancing. We’re going. You can’t tell me you don’t want to dance with your completely adorable boyfriend. He _stutters_ , Dipper. How can you not want to dance with that?”

“Oh my god.”

“I- but I don’t- I don’t _really_ dance,” Wirt offered up, gaze flitting between the two of them.

“Are you saying you don't want to dance with my brother? Wirt, I'm shocked.”

“Oh my god,” Dipper repeated. “If you're this excited tomorrow, I'll take you.”

“And it’s not that I don’t _want_ to dance with him, I would, I do. It’s just probably better for the sake of our relationship that he not dance with me. You know, for his own good,” Wirt defended, face warming at the implication.

“You can't be that bad,” the twins protested.

“Now we're absolutely going dancing,” Mabel continued.

“We're not dragging him if he doesn't want to go.”

Mabel shook her head. “Did you not just hear him, Dipdop? He _wants_ to dance with you. And I know you want to dance with him. Don't you?”

“Well...” Dipper glanced at his boyfriend, pink dusting his cheeks. “Yeah.”

“Has he seen you dancing around in your boxers when you think no one's watching?”

The blush deepened. “Get back on the plane. You obviously want to go back to Paris.”

Mabel only laughed.

Despite his own equally flustered rosiness, Wirt did find the color rising in his boyfriend’s face to be adorable, lips quirking up. As much as he wanted to find out more about Dipper’s hidden dance moves, he decided to save that conversation for a later time to spare him any further embarrassment. Instead he adjusted his arm linked with Mabel’s as they approached the baggage claim, using his free hand to give her forearm a pat.

“What do your bags look like, Mabel? I can grab them for you in case Dipper tries to pick you up and hold you hostage again,” he offered.

“Oh, I have a few.”

“They're the neon ones.”

Giggling, Mabel bounced in place. “Better than your easy-to-lose black ones.”

“Let's not talk about lost luggage. I'll scream.” Dipper released her, albeit reluctantly, and grabbed a bright yellow suitcase. There were two others, green and pink, that followed.

Mabel took the smallest, willing to take advantage of the two men with her. “So I've been thinking about getting a kitty.”

“Grunkle Stan would kill you.”

“But you can keep it when I'm not here.”

“I will kill you.”

“But cats love you.”

“No.”

Wirt grinned as he followed the signs towards parking, glancing back at them over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “What? You don’t like kittens, Dipper?”

“Don't.”

Mabel looked between them, eyes going wide. “Ooh. I'm missing something.”

“No, you're not.”

“Wirt! What am I missing?”

“Oh, nothing. I just really like kittens.” Wirt smiled innocently.

“Oh my god.”

“I have to know!” Mabel demanded, giggling.

With a laugh, he shook his head. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough. Dipper will slip up at some point and I’ll be ready when he does.”

This was a problem Dipper hadn't counted on. The petname hadn't been bad enough for him to stop referring to Wirt as babe, but the two of them spent most of their time alone together, dates outside the apartment complex spent around strangers he didn't care about.

But this was Mabel. She couldn't find out. He'd never live it down. He bit his lip. Oh, no.

“Oh, your _face_! This is a good secret.”

“It's not. Shut up.” He jerked his keys out of his pocket to open the trunk for his twin's things.

While he did, Wirt placed one hand at the small of his back, kneading gently before lifting the suitcase he had into the back. “Hey, you know your secret’s safe with me as long as you behave,” he murmured, pecking his cheek as he reached around him, smile soft even as amusement glittered in his eyes. “I’m not gonna say it first, I promise.”

“Crazily enough, that doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better.” Dipper stuck his tongue out before grabbing the case his sister held and pushing it into the back.

When he reached for the carry-on, she shook her head and held the satchel to her chest. “Can I drive?”

“Not on your life.”

“But I’ve gotten so good at it! Last time I was on the road, I didn’t even shout.” He sent her a bland look and she grinned. “At any one specific person, anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Backseat, child.”

“Excuse you, little brother.”

“Don’t even.”

She placed a hand over her heart, swooning playfully. “My little baby brother! I’ve missed you so, and yet you’re just mean, rude, and hateful!”

He flicked her nose. “Stop it.”

“He’s missed you, too,” Wirt piped up, taking Dipper’s hand to press a kiss to the back of it. “I can sit in the back and she can have the passenger seat.”

“She likes the back,” he said while she chimed in with, “I like the back.”

“If I can’t drive, I like the full chauffeur experience,” Mabel continued, tugging open the back door and hopping in. “You don’t have the ABBA CD in, do you?”

Going pale, Dipper slammed the door in her face. “Who would listen to-? I mean-” Mortified, he quickly got behind the wheel. “I hate you, Mabel.”

“I have so many weeks of embarrassment to catch up on.”

Amused, Wirt got settled in the passenger seat as Dipper started the car. Something that very much wasn’t ABBA started playing and he couldn’t help reaching out to place his hand on his thigh. As much as he understood missing a sibling and loving them unconditionally, he also understood the pains and trials that came with them. Unavoidable and never-ending.

“Just so you know, ABBA isn’t a deal breaker for me,” he assured him nonetheless with a comforting squeeze.

“Let’s not talk about ABBA.”

“He used to sing into his hairbrush and-” She broke off on squealing giggles, Dipper swatting at her with his hat. “Okay, okay! You brat!” She stole the cap before he could put it back on, tugging it onto her own head instead. Situating herself in the middle, she buckled up. “Home, Dipper!”

“The Lady Mabel has spoken,” Wirt chuckled, removing his hand to lean back and admire his profile, always a little in awe of him without his hat, no matter how many times he’d seen him without it. “Let’s go home.”

When Dipper put the car in reverse and pulled out of the slot, Mabel leaned forward. “Oh!” She tapped the teacher’s shoulder, beaming. “Wirt, you’ve got to let me take your measurements. I’m so making you a sweater.”

Though still mortified, Dipper couldn’t help the smile. There was the approval he’d been waiting for. While she’d wasted no time in embarrassing him, he’d still so much rather she be there than an ocean away.

****

\----

****

Friday when Wirt’s car door shut, there were two heads that popped out of Dipper’s window. He let out wolf-whistle, and his sister giggled. Both waved.

Cheeks already rosy from the nippy chill, Wirt’s blush only deepened as he laughed. “Shh!” he hushed his boyfriend, holding a finger to his lips before adjusting his coat and satchel, heading for door to their building. “I’m not coming over if you keep that up!”

“If you don’t, I’ll just go to you!” he called back.

“Who says I’ll let you in?” Wirt flashed him a grin, pausing just before he’d be out of their collective sight.

“That’s mean!”

Mabel laughed. “I’m making hot chocolate! So hurry up!”

“Oh, well in that case.” Wirt ducked inside, chuckling to himself as he went to the elevator. So far things were going well with his boyfriend’s sister. It was almost as easy to be comfortable around her as it was to be with Dipper, Mabel exuding an energy that couldn’t help drawing people in, making them feel like they mattered. He could see why she was so important to Dipper. They complemented each other well, balanced each other out while sharing quite a bit of the same quirks from what Wirt had been able to tell after an evening spent with the two of them.

He made a quick stop in his own apartment to rid himself of his coat and work things, then crossed the hall and made his presence known with a light knock before trying the handle. It wasn’t a surprise to find it unlocked. Honestly it was as expected for him as it was for Dipper that he just walk into the apartment, his boyfriend attempting to train him out of the knocking and waiting thing. The waiting he’d been relatively successful at, but the knocking still preceded any and all entrances.

Wirt closed the door behind him. “So, hot chocolate?”

Mabel was halfway to the kitchen, sending him a wave before disappearing. “It’s almost ready!”

Dipper set his sketchbook aside and crossed to him, arms winding around his neck. “So hi. Did you illuminate the youth of America and all that?”

“I did. They will go out into the world armed with the knowledge of what separates the verbs from the adverbs.” Encircling Dipper’s waist with his arms, Wirt tipped his head forward to claim a light kiss. “Hi. How was your day?”

“Good. I’m going to say the cheesey ‘better now that you’re here’ line because it’s true.” Their lips brushed together again. “And I barely got any work done because Mabel doesn’t understand what a deadline is if it’s not hers. I think she’s serious about the cat thing, too, which is terrifying.”

“I dunno, I don’t think a cat would be so bad. They’re pretty independent. And you’d be able to feed one since no cooking is required.” He grinned and gave his side a pat. “You could be cat buddies and laze around on the couch all day.”

“I see you brought your sass home with you.” Dipper nuzzled his neck, nipping sharply. “I am not a cat. There will be no cat buddies.”

Wirt snickered as he squeezed him. “You don’t have to be a cat to be cat buddies. You just have to be adorable. And lazy.”

“I’ve got the lazy part down, but I did get dressed like a real adult today. So progress is being made.”

“So are you guys going to kiss or are you going to make me stand here _waiting_ for you to kiss? It’s a little ridiculous how chatty you are.”

Dipper huffed out a laugh against Wirt’s neck. “Let’s send her back to Paris.”

He nuzzled him back with a shake of his head, looking to Mabel over his shoulder. “We did kiss. Twice. You must’ve missed it.”

She sighed. “I miss everything good. Hot chocolate, though! I make it with milk, if that’s okay. And, wow, Dipper’s fridge.”

He scowled, taking a step back from his boyfriend to take one of the mugs his twin held out. “There’s nothing wrong with my fridge. It’s one of the only things that remains from what you made me buy originally.”

“It’s also painfully empty. You have one apple left, and now you don’t even have milk.”

He shrugged. “Okay, so it’s also one of the most underused things in my kitchen.”

“To be fair, cooking lessons are always at my place and I’ve given up on sending him back here with leftovers. Especially when he can come over whenever he wants if he’s hungry.” Wirt cradled his mug close to his face with both hands, letting the warmth of the mug seep into his fingers as the steam wafted up to brush his cheeks. “Though you should have some things here. Things that don’t involve heat in order to eat.”

“I have cereal.”

“Had.”

“Bread?”

“Mm-mm.”

Dipper blinked. “Is my kitchen totally empty?”

“Like beyond empty. It’s like nobody lives here.”

“Oh.” He took a sip of hot chocolate. “I guess I should go shopping eventually.”

“Eventually?” Wirt lifted an eyebrow. “How about tomorrow? I mean, what if something happens and suddenly all the food I have to offer you just mysteriously vanishes?”

“Grocery shopping sucks.”

“What?” He couldn’t help laughing, nudging his boyfriend’s ankle with the toe of his shoe. “Are you serious? Grocery shopping’s fun. It’s all about food. You love food.”

“I don’t like buying it. I like eating it. It’s very different.”

Mabel giggled. “You’re such a baby.”

He hid his pout with another sip. “I am not.”

Wirt looped one arm around Dipper’s waist. “Would it suck less if you had company?”

Humming, he leaned into his boyfriend. “Maybe. Wanna grab lunch and make a date out of it?”

“I think I do,” Wirt replied, kissing his cheek, then his lips when he had his attention.

Dipper lifted a hand, fingers delving into the hair at the nape of his neck. The two light kisses hadn’t been nearly enough after not having seen him since that morning. He was starting to get used to Wirt’s alarms in the morning, watching his boyfriend rush around the room after hitting snooze too many times. And he loved leaning out his window when he came home.

Really, he just loved this man. He loved how their routines had blended together, how easy he was to talk to or to sit with quietly. It was his most fulfilling relationship and after just one afternoon with them, Mabel had caught onto that.

“I really like him,” she’d assured him before he’d left her in the first floor apartment Grunkle Stan always kept ready for her to join Wirt in his.

“Yeah?”

“Yep! He’s a total sweetheart, and you’re just... you’re so happy, Dipper! And you’re not lonely anymore, and I know you were.”

“It... It wasn’t that bad,” he’d muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

She’d only gathered him in her arms, holding tight. “Yes, it was. So as long as he keeps making you happy, I’ll keep liking him. It helps that he’s a dork just like you and, really, I don’t know how you ended up with someone so sweet. You’re a jerk.”

She’d been teasing, giggling as she’d said it, but Dipper really didn’t know the answer. As the kiss broke into softer, lighter brushes that gave them both chances to breathe, he wondered what he’d done to deserve this man in his life. Setting fires and becoming the recluse he constantly denied being didn’t seem as though it was worth all this.

Still, he wasn’t going to give it up without a good fight. “Definitely making a date out of it,” he murmured. “Maybe kissing in the produce section’ll liven up shopping.”

“Not just the produce section, I hope,” Wirt sighed against his lips, his curving happily at having him in his arms, free to touch, at the end of the day, with the weekend stretched ahead of them. “Bakery section, too. You do need bread.”

“Dairy section. Got to have milk for cereal.” He kneaded the back of his neck. “This shopping trip might have more kissing than shopping, and I’m so on board for that.”

“Mm…” Wirt’s eyes closed, muscles relaxing under his fingers. “I am, too, just as long as we do fill your fridge and pantry with something at the end of it.”

“Maybe we can have a cooking lesson here for once. Maybe you’ll let me get you into my bed for once. No alarms to deal with.” Dipper nibbled on his bottom lip. “I haven’t looked forward to weekends this much since college.”

Wirt’s hum turned into a soft laugh as he leaned away a bit, cheeks pleasantly flushed as he ran his tongue over his lower lip, a little too conscious of Mabel being in the room to let either of them get too caught up in each other. “Just wait until winter break. And spring and summer. No alarms then either.”

“Good. You can be lazy with me.”

He couldn’t help the grin. “Lazy cat buddies.” Wirt brushed their noses together, lowering his voice some. “And I’m not opposed to switching things up and spending the weekend in your place.”

“Okay. We should get a tea kettle while we’re out tomorrow. I might be able to figure it out as long as we get one of the ones that whistles.”

Sprawled on the couch, idly flipping through Dipper’s sketchbook to give them at least some semblance of privacy, Mabel snickered. “I wonder what burnt tea tastes like.”

“Shut up, Mabel.”

“If we’re getting you a tea kettle, it definitely has to whistle.” Wirt laughed, easing away from him to sit down in the armchair. “And I’d be more concerned with oversteeped tea, in this case. I can see you chucking in a bag and then coming back five hours later.”

“Oh, ick, it would be so bitter,” she groaned.

Eyes rolling, Dipper dropped onto the couch, his sister immediately propping her feet in his lap. He really couldn’t argue. “Maybe. But the trick is to put the bag in right before Wirt gets home, and then he can take care of it from there. Problem solved and he gets tea after school like he likes. So there.”

Wirt’s eyes lit up, surprise coloring his expression before softening, as flustered as he was adoring when he looked at him. “Oh, you’d- that’s- you don’t have to do that just so I can have tea when I get home.” But he couldn’t deny how sweet he found the idea, how sweet he found the man the idea belonged to.

“Why else would I want a tea kettle? I don’t drink tea.” Dipper shrugged, gaze dropping to his mug of hot chocolate. “But, y’know, you keep coming over here after work, and I know you don’t like to drink tea when it’s late. So.” He looked up again, smile slight. “We’re getting a tea kettle for over here. I guess I’ll need some of the Endicott tea that you drink too.”

“Get the Grey tea for me, too, while you’re at it. They’re basically the same thing since the owners of each married and they get their leaves from the same place, but they’re just different enough to make it worth it.”

He patted her leg. “No problem.”

Fiddling with his mug, Wirt accepted Dipper’s reasoning with a nod, Mabel’s request easing his mind about his boyfriend going out of his way. “Thanks, Dipper,” he murmured, then took a sip of hot chocolate, feeling a little silly for getting shy over a tea kettle and tea of all things. It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t do the same thing for him.

He smiled. “You're welcome, babe.”

Wirt hesitated mid-sip, staring at him from over the top of his mug for a beat. It was genuine and still sweet, even if he did use babe, but he had vowed to return every babe with kitten. Even if it would embarrass him in front of his sister. Though, he supposed that was the point of it, wasn’t it?

Well, that and kitten really did suit Dipper as a petname. “You’re just…” Wirt pursed his lips as he lowered the mug, twisting his smile into something extra sweet. “You’re just so good to me, kitten.”

Dipper realized his mistake a second too late, color shooting into his face, grip tightening on the mug. “Crap,” he breathed and Mabel kicked his side.

She’d been ready to comment on “babe,” the petname not one she’d ever heard her brother bestow on anyone before. But “kitten” had her squeaking. “Oh my gosh, that’s the _best_ thing I’ve ever heard in my life! That’s _so_ cute! I told you! I’ve told you a million times that you’re an adorable kitten, and oh my gosh!”

His mug was set down so he could cover his flushed face. “Oh my god.”

“Kitten!” she squealed, sitting up to punch his shoulder instead of kicking him. “That’s! So! Cute!” Her grin shot to Wirt. “How long have you been calling him that? And he calls you babe! This is so great!”

Laughing, Wirt set his mug down as well and got up from the chair to kneel by Dipper’s legs. “Since Thanksgiving,” he answered her and placed his hands on his thighs to rub gentle circles against them. “He’s called me babe longer though. It took me a while to come up with a revenge petname that suited him.”

“A revenge petname.” She giggled, scooting back to the corner of the couch. Her legs were drawn up, chin resting on her knees. “It totally suits him. A million, billion percent. Nobody else ever sees it, and how can you not?”

Dipper’s protest was muffled and unintelligible, so she ignored it. “I’m so glad you didn’t go the star route or play with our last name or something. Those are the worst, and they’re way too easy. Kitten works so much better. It’s the best name. And, oh my gosh, I love that he calls you babe. He never does that. He called somebody baby once, and then backpedaled so fast they broke up. Oh my gosh, Dipper, why didn’t you tell me you had petnames that _work_?”

He grunted.

“I’m so glad I’m home so I could find out about this. Oh my gosh.”

“Well, I think it kinda helps that we started treating it like a game more than anything. I was trying to find ways to get him to stop calling me babe and I think that amused him. But… I dunno.” Wirt watched his boyfriend continue to hide, his own blush spreading while he folded his arms over Dipper’s knees and let his chin rest on them. “I kinda like it now, I think. More than I did at first,” he admitted softly, gaze fixated on one of the couch cushions. “And I don’t usually. But I can be his babe.”

Mabel bit back her cooing, and Dipper swallowed. He uncovered his face slowly, hands hesitating before one stroked Wirt’s hair and the other curled into his sweater. “Really?” he murmured.

His gaze flicked back up to him, smile hesitant, but the sincerity in his eyes attempted to combat the nerves stirred up by the confession. “Yeah. Really.”

Dipper’s blush faded a bit as his lips curved, hand leaving his hair so his fingertips could brush his cheek. “If anyone’s going to call me kitten, it’s you. Only you.”

Wirt’s smile grew, the worry lines fading from around his eyes. He tilted his head into the touch, then puffed up his cheeks with mock indignation. “It better only be me. You’re my kitten.” Light kisses grazed his fingers before he lifted a hand to lace them with his.

“Yeah, I am.”

Mabel couldn’t hold back the squeak, eyes round and delighted. They were in love. They were obviously, ridiculously, adorably in love. She’d never been happier for her twin, so shimmied in place. “You guys are so sweet. Wow.”

“We try,” Wirt chuckled, giving his hand a squeeze. Mild embarrassment fluttered in his belly, after all Mabel was right there, but he couldn’t let it override his affection for Dipper. His love for him. It was rare that he felt secure enough in his love to let it show freely, to bask in it, and he was going to savor it along with what he could see reflected in Dipper’s eyes.

Dipper squeezed back, tugging at his boyfriend so he would stand for a kiss. He arched off the couch, arms wrapped around his neck. Mabel's presence wasn't a deterrent for that, though she was enough to keep him from dragging Wirt right onto his lap.

He broke the kiss with a grin. They just needed to get rid of her and-

“Dipper, it's almost five.”

He frowned at her, grip on Wirt lessening. “Can we just go later? Like. Sunday-later?”

“You promised you'd take me dancing, and I'm hungry.” She grinned at Wirt. “You can still change your mind and come with us.”

Wirt lifted his head, the hand bracing himself on Dipper’s shoulder tightening as he glanced her way. “I…” He pursed his lips. All day he’d been looking forward to the start of the weekend, to spending the evening with his boyfriend and while it was fine if they went off and did other things without one another from time to time, he didn’t really want that to be the case this time.

But dancing?

“What… what kind of dancing?” he broached hesitantly, gaze flitting to Dipper.

He huffed, eyes rolling. “She wants to go to a club.”

“We're going to a club!” Mabel echoed. “Corduroy's because I want to dance and not get hit on.”

“There are lesbians there too,” Dipper pointed out.

“That's different.”

“And it's Friday, so it'll be busy and-”

“We've had this argument already.” She kicked his side. “When I was picking your clothes.”

Sighing, he looked to his boyfriend. “She picked out my clothes. Like I'm five.”

“Well, you do sometimes act like you’re five,” Wirt reasoned and playfully tugged the bill of his cap down over his eyes. “But she is the fashion expert. I don’t know. I’d trust her to pick out my clothes.”

“I'm totally willing if you want to come out with us. Which you should,” she insisted. “It'll be fun!”

Fun wasn’t exactly how he’d describe his experiences with clubs in the past. Wirt straightened, hands slipping into his pockets as he rocked back on his heels to consider. His experiences with clubs included a rather terrible best friend’s attempts to hook him up with random guys and were very lacking in Dipper Pines. Wirt hummed as he looked his boyfriend over. It wouldn’t be so terrible if he was there. There was still the dancing part to consider, but maybe Dipper would be able to look past that or still find him attractive regardless. One could only hope.

“Okay,” he exhaled with a slight nod, then gestured towards the front door. “Yeah. Okay. Just give me a few minutes to get ready.” He was pretty sure he hadn’t burned the clothes he’d been forced into buying from the last few times he’d been out.

Mabel grinned, hopping up. “I'm following you, and you can't stop me.” She rubbed her hands together. “Let's go study that closet of yours, adorable boyfriend.”

“Mabel, don't break him.”

“I won't!” she promised, skipping to the door.

Wirt shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “Don’t worry. Even if she tries, I’m pretty resilient.” He leaned down to brush their lips together briefly. “See you in a bit.”

As he joined Mabel and led the way into his apartment, resigning himself to her determination and excitable nature for the time being, he was at least comforted by the fact that whatever she helped him pick out, at least it wasn’t to pick up strange men.

****

\----

****

The pants were tighter than he remembered. Wirt glanced down at the one of two pairs of jeans he owned, noting how the dark wash denim clung to his legs. The black vest covering his simple, cuffed, white shirt also hugged his chest and waist with a snugness his sweaters didn’t usually possess. Despite being unused to the clothes, though, they weren’t the worst things he’d ever worn. At least Mabel let him wear a shirt under the vest she’d been so excited to see, shrieking with delight as she practically ripped it from his closet with stars in her eyes.

Plus, it helped that what she’d picked out for Dipper distracted him from feeling somewhat out of his skin, his eyes and attention continuously drawn to his boyfriend’s figure. Drinking his fill of him with his gaze time and time again, Wirt found he was unable to completely quench his appreciation for him, staggered every time he was reminded this stunning man was here with him. It didn’t matter what anyone said about his own legs in skinny jeans, Dipper pulled off the tight, black denim flawlessly.

Dipper grinned, his own gaze traveling over him with open appreciation as they followed Mabel to the door. There was a line of poor souls trapped in the December air, but the twins ignored it. Mabel tossed her hair when a bouncer stopped them. “Pines.”

He glanced at his clipboard and nodded, stepping to the side to let them pass, and Mabel looked over her shoulder, brows wagging before she skipped into the club ahead of them. The bass throbbed around them, music muffled in the narrow hall. Dipper tucked an arm around Wirt’s waist, grinning. As much as he’d complained about it, now that they were actually there, he was looking forward to it. He hadn’t danced with someone, someone that he liked, in a very long time. He’d never danced with someone he loved. “It’s not Northwest’s, but it’s a pretty cool place, all things considered.”

“Yeah,” Wirt agreed somewhat distractedly, caught between taking in his surroundings and the close contact between him and Dipper. He leaned into him, gaze flitting down to the arm around him, dragging his teeth over his lower lip at the way the sleeves of his navy blue button-front were rolled to his elbows. Yep. Mabel certainly knew what she was doing when it came to clothes.

Wirt swallowed and let his arm slip around Dipper in return, two fingers curling in his belt loop. “I’m sure it’ll be an experience. I mean, I’ve never been somewhere like this actually _with_ someone, you know? So…” He cleared his throat and shrugged a little. “Yeah. Let alone a place like this. I mean, it’s almost like you’ve got a person on the inside here, too.”

“Uh.”

There was a small pause and Wirt looked to him. “You do, don’t you?”

“When we were kids, Wendy Corduroy lived on the second floor. She’s really awesome.”

Mabel spun, skirt flaring as she placed her hands on her hips. “Which reminds me that we should find her and say hi at some point. When’s the last time you saw her, Dipper?”

“Uh.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re such a recluse!”

“I am not.”

“Oh my gosh. Is there anybody in this city you don’t know?” Wirt shook his head as he mimicked Mabel, though his astonishment veered off in the opposite direction of hers. Where she saw recluse, he saw a secret socialite in hiding. He bumped their hips together, keeping him close just the same.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a handful or so that I haven’t met yet.” As they approached the main door, he tucked his hand into Wirt’s back pocket. “I used to not know you.”

“You fixed that pretty quickly though. It only took you two months of setting off the fire alarm to catch my attention.” Wirt grinned at him while he was still at ease enough to manage it, the thrumming of the music just beyond them already making his pulse jump. “And now you know me.”

Mabel flung open the door, the music pouring into the hall. The twins grinned at one another. “I’m hitting the floor right now! Get me a drink, okay? And nachos. We need nachos.”

“Got it.” She scrambled off, and Dipper brushed a kiss to his boyfriend’s neck. “Come on, babe. We’ve got a table reserved, and the nachos are legendary. I can grab a menu from Tambry if you want to see if there’s something else you’d want.”

“No, that’s okay, kitten. Nachos sound fine.” Wirt cupped Dipper’s chin and tilted his head up so the next kiss was against his lips, the familiar mingling with the unfamiliar. “I trust your judgment. I think. I know I trust you not to lose me in this place at least. Lead the way.”

They made their way towards one of the sets of neon lit stairs, their arms staying snug around one another as they brushed past guys and girls alike, garnering second glances from both more than once. Wirt tightened his hold a little, squishing himself against Dipper without completely throwing off their balance in an attempt to avoid any unnecessary and unwelcome touching with total strangers. Total strangers that may or may not have been checking him or his boyfriend out.

Skirting around the edge of the first floor, dance floor stretched out in the center, slightly sunken in and bathed in deep blue and purple light, Dipper tugged him towards the stairs that were sectioned off and guarded. A reserved table in the VIP section? Wirt couldn’t help raising an eyebrow as he glanced to Dipper. This man was a constant mystery, or at least full of the unexpected. Certainly not the kind of man he’d expect to be his neighbor, much less his boyfriend.

And of course he knew the bouncer guarding the VIP tables, was on first name basis with him actually.

“Yo, Dipper! Long time, no see, man.”

“Hey, Nate.” He returned the offered fist bump.

“I’m guessing Mabel’s back in town if you’ve left your cave.”

“I’m not a recluse.” Dipper rolled his eyes. “This is my boyfriend, Wirt. Please be nice to him.”

“No promises.” The tattooed bouncer grinned widely, nodding in Wirt’s direction. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too. Hi.” Wirt waved hesitantly, hip pressing further into Dipper’s, gaze flitting from Nate to his boyfriend. “What uh… what do you mean by ‘nice?’”

Dipper turned his head, ready to tell one of the dozens of stories he had available. But he ended up pressing a kiss to Wirt’s cheek. “Nate, I mean it.”

“Okay.”

“Seriously. Don’t even think about sending Lee our way either.”

“Alright, alright, alright. Man. You finally actually bring a date in here and you ruin everyone’s fun.”

“Pssh. Whatever, man.” Dipper grinned at him, then guided his boyfriend to a corner table. Just far enough away from the music to hear one another, but close enough to dart to the dance floor at a moment’s notice. It was ideal for the twins, one more willing to stay secluded and the other up and down.

Dipper nudged Wirt into the booth and slid in beside him, pressing close. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just get nervous around crowds like this. It’s nothing. It’s fine.” Wirt waved the question away, though in no way forwent taking advantage of being close. He draped his arm around Dipper’s shoulder, fixing him with an amused look. “You do know I was joking when I asked if there was anybody in this city you didn’t know, right?”

“I know, like, five people who work here besides Wendy. And I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to not know a lot of people in a place you grow up in.” Dipper took his hand in both of his, offering him a smile and letting the idea of them dancing together fade. “We don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to. I know Mabel’ll be taken care of, so us bailing won’t ruin her good time.”

“What?” Wirt blinked, then shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. That’s not what I... I mean, we’re here. We- we might as well enjoy ourselves. It’s not a big deal, seriously.” His heart hammered in his chest, fingers twitching as they tried to pick a hand to hold onto. He didn’t want to ruin his good time either, no matter what his smile said. Dipper had very obviously looked like he was looking forward to this once they actually got here, earlier protests aside. He wasn’t going to be the one to make him leave. “I… I’m sorry. I’m good, I promise, but I can always get a few drinks if you want me to loosen up, or whatever. If it’s bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me. It’s okay. I just want you to know that the option to leave’s there. Mabel would literally stay here until the place closes, and I know all the places to hide from the crowd because of that.” He shrugged, one hand letting go to cup his cheek. “So I guess you can get a drink if you want, but I like you sober. Anxious or not.”

There was flicker of surprise across his face, briefly shadowed with disbelief. “No, I… I don’t really like drinking. I’d rather be sober when I dance with you.” Wirt pursed his lips, tipping his cheek into the gentle touch. “It’s really not bothering you?”

Dipper’s smile brightened at the mention of them dancing - _when_ \- but if Wirt changed his mind, he wouldn’t be upset. They could always dance together at home. They both had extensive music collections and eventually Dipper was going to stop being distracted by the man long enough to look at the dozens upon dozens of tapes. “It really doesn’t bother me, I promise. I’d be the worst hypocrite if it did, y’know? I can only stand crowds for a certain amount of time, and then I just have to get out.”

Wirt relaxed fully, his own smile tugging at his lips as the deep bass stopped dictating the shuddering rhythm of his heart. “Okay. Okay, then we’ll just… check in with each other periodically and see how we’re feeling. Yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Dipper leaned against him. “Solid plan, babe.”

When the waitress came by and took their order - two sodas, a shirley temple, and one giant serving of loaded nachos - Dipper happily pointed out that he did not, in fact, know her. Probably. She was vaguely familiar, but he kept that to himself. If he didn’t know her name, it didn’t count.

Mabel returned with their drinks, downing half of hers in one go and then latching onto her brother’s free hand. The other was twined with Wirt’s atop the table, the two of them still pressed snugly together. “Come dance with me,” she demanded.

“Mabel-”

“You haven’t danced with me in _months_ , and I didn’t drag you here so you could ignore me, bro-bro! I get one song. I might get two. We’ll see.” She smiled. “Please, Dipper!”

He glanced at Wirt, biting his lip. He’d been tapping his finger against the table for the past two songs, eager to be moving to the beat even while content to stay wrapped up in his boyfriend. “Is that okay? I mean, it’s not like you have to stay here. If nachos come, they’ll leave them at the table if we’re here or not. So you could- I don’t know. I should probably dance with her at least once.”

“Yes, you should!”

Wirt huffed out a laugh, unwinding his arm from around him to bump his shoulder. His fidgeting hadn’t gone unnoticed. He brushed a kiss to Dipper’s worried lips. “You should definitely dance with her. And- and yeah, I’ll come with you.”

“Good!” Mabel dragged her twin away, and he was quick to grab Wirt as if it would slow her down. It didn’t. As they neared the edge of the dancefloor, he let his hand go so he didn’t have to join the swarm of people. The song playing was nearing its end as the twins weaved through the group.

Though they were just walking, Mabel was constantly in motion. Even walking as they were, she managed to move far more than necessary. She would pause, cocking a hip out, one foot hovering over the floor, and sway towards her twin before setting it down. Her hips swished, hair flicked, shoulders shimmied. Not a single step was taken without something unnecessary added to it.

And Dipper moved with her, meeting her ebb and flow with a practiced ease. He leaned into her when she swayed towards him. Their grins flashed more often than not, the curve identical right down to the mischief in their eyes. Watching the Pines twins navigate through a crowded dance floor was like watching a very carefully choreographed ballet and they were the only ones who knew the steps.

Without warning they stopped navigating and joined as the song switched to one that delighted them both. With a quick dip to make his sister laugh, the twins were dancing. They were the only ones who knew the steps here, too. It was easy to tell that Mabel was far better, but Dipper wasn’t left behind. They moved seamlessly, grinning and laughing, spinning and stepping with the beat. They took over the floor, commanded it with their combined energies.

And Dipper kept searching for Wirt, sending him small waves and bright smiles between moves. Including him despite the distance.

With a small smile of his own, he’d wave back, finding the man’s enthusiasm endearing as much as captivating. Both of them were. Their fluidity and comfort with one another, knowing their partner and predicting their next moves, and the way they just had fun with it sent small thrills along Wirt’s spine. It thrilled him to see the man he loved so happy, each beaming grin tossed his way like a needle threading through him, eager to pull and erase the distance he’d allowed them.

Wirt glanced down at his feet - matching shoes, Mabel wouldn’t have let him mess that up, not for this - and shuffled them. He could go out there, for a little bit. He did say he’d dance with him, and boy did he want to dance with him now that he’d seen what Dipper could do firsthand, but he couldn’t dance like that. His hips couldn’t sway with that hypnotic swagger, his steps wouldn’t be so smooth. Shoulders hunched, arms tight around his chest as he hugged himself, projecting as much of a “back-off” vibe as possible to curious, hungry, wandering eyes, he could feel just how tightly wound he was. No, Dipper deserved to have fun and dance with a partner that actually could dance and have fun with him, and he’d be content to watch from the sidelines.

Except he wasn’t content. Wirt huffed out a sigh and flicked his gaze back up to find his boyfriend. As the song came to an end, flowing into the next, he relaxed his posture and twisted his lips with determination. He stepped down to the dance floor, careful of the crowd as he weaved through it, not at all with the grace and light steps the twins had graced the floor with, more conscious of keeping very much to himself and avoiding the misfortune of groping, wandering hands. Luckily Dipper and Mabel weren’t so far in, just enough to make it a bit of a challenge to get to them.

He ducked out of the way of a couple in the middle of some fierce grinding, then breached the bubble of their immediate area. Heart back in his throat and thundering like a storm, Wirt exhaled on a shallow breath and let his hips start to rock to the beat. As a musician it was easy enough to focus on rhythm, channel it, lose himself to the rise and fall like waves against the shore.

Drown in it.

Wirt swallowed, then closed his eyes to lose the distraction of the lights and the suffocating crowd and welcomed the music, allowed it to dictate his movements and the pulse of his heart rather than the other way around. He smiled to himself, opening his eyes on a deeper breath to latch on the image of his boyfriend dancing and slowly sidled over to him, timing their motions to let his back brush against his on a turn to catch his attention.

Dipper turned, a warning on his tongue that died instantly. “Hey, Mabel, some really hot guy wants to cut in.”

She laughed. “Who am I to stand in the way of that? He is awfully cute.”

“Mmhm.” Dipper reached up, taking a hold of his shoulders. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Wirt went to place his hands on Dipper’s hips, his own still swaying as his hesitation lasted only a beat. “Got a bit lonely out there on the edge. Good thing though. Sounds like there’s some really hot, cute guy I’m gonna have to fend off.”

“Only if you plan on fighting yourself.” Dipper swayed with him. The mid-tempo beat was perfect. Slow enough to get close, fast enough to demand motion. “I was hoping you'd find your way over here.”

“Yeah, well… you looked like you were doing just fine without me. Better than fine, really. It was a good show. I appreciated it, anyway.” Wirt shrugged, then pressed closer, gaze roving over him. “Enough to make me want to get up close and appreciate it even more.”

“Well, I’m here and willing to be appreciated.” He grinned, sliding his arms more fully around him as his hips rocked faster, getting into the beat. “Also willing to do some appreciating of my own.”

“Hope I don’t disappoint.” Wirt’s heart fluttered out of sync with the music as his grin and hips worked their way through him, tingling in his veins.

He glanced down as he timed Dipper’s movements, an attempt to match his pace beat for beat. It took him too much out of it though, too conscious of the mechanics rather than the natural flow. He wanted to feel the way he moved against him, lose himself in his arms and his pulse and giddy aura that only seemed to glow brighter with him there. While he let Dipper dictate the pace, he relaxed into it and kept up with him in his own way. His hands skimmed along his sides as he rolled with him, gaze flitting up to meet and hold Dipper’s.

“You don't dance much, do you?” He pressed closer, lifting up. His smile warmed, amazed that Wirt would leave his comfort zone for him. “Relax, babe. You're not trying to impress anyone. You already have me.” His fingers delved into his hair, hips rocking forward. “Just move with me.”

The pout his lips had started to form, defensive indignation and self-conscious embarrassment flooding him, was stemmed by the light scritch of his nails over his scalp and his body pulsing against his. Wirt’s mouth parted on a shaky gasp, hands tightening on his waist. “I’m trying.” His hips rocked back into his, his response fluid and smooth. “I told you I don’t really dance.”

“You’re not bad.” Just a little tense, just a little nervous. Seeking to sooth and to distract, Dipper nibbled on his lip. A hand fell, fingers splaying over Wirt’s hip as he guided his motions. “You don’t have to do anything special. You just have to be close to me, okay? Don’t worry about the beat, just follow my lead. It’s just you and me, Wirt.”

“Mmhm.” Wirt ran his tongue over his lower lip, his fingers not clinging quite so much. He tilted his head forward so their brows could rest together and let himself be moved, fitting into the grooves of Dipper’s dance until they were moving as one, bodies brushing and sliding and pressing into one another. Just the two of them. Close, touching and moving, it was all that mattered. “Okay.”

Dipper drew him into a kiss, craving that extra connection as the song segued into something faster. Anyone who looked their way - and there were several gazes that swept over the couple - knew immediately that they were together, and it thrilled Dipper to no end to know that it wasn’t just for that night. They’d arrived together, they would leave together, and he was going to peel his boyfriend out of pants that drew even more attention to his already long legs as soon as possible. He wanted this shy man who was willing to dance in a crowded space with him, who was just stubborn enough to lose himself to the way they moved together. He loved him.

Drunk on it, drunk on the way they meshed so well together, Dipper broke the kiss on a laugh and turned in his arms. As he pressed back, grinding against him shamelessly, he lifted an arm to cup the back of his neck and grinned.

Wirt’s pulse jumped, hips stuttering a moment as a dark flush spread over his cheeks. His laugh and his smile, Dipper’s energy washed over him, drawing a nervous chuckle from him at first. His hands hovered over him a moment, then pressed one over his thigh and the other against his waist to keep him close as he matched his rhythm, a brighter laugh spilling out. Tipping his head forward, he brushed his lips to his cheek, then just beneath his ear, Dipper’s joy infectious and he wanted to give back what he could of his own with the man in his arms inspiring so much of it just by existing.

Dipper laid a hand over the one on his thigh, giving it a squeeze as his hips gyrated tirelessly. It would have been easy to enough to break free, move away, but he stayed right where he was. If he could’ve gotten closer, he would have. He tipped his head back, eyes as wicked as the way he ground his ass to his lover’s groin. “Want to know something I wasn’t going to tell you until later?”

Wirt’s response was a breathless moan, lips pursing against it as he rolled and rubbed into him, their bodies molding together. “Maybe,” he managed to reply, petting low on his abdomen as he nipped at his jaw. “Have a feeling you’re gonna tell me anyway.”

“Mmhm.” Dipper bit his neck, pleased with himself as the moan he’d let out rolled heat through his body. It only encouraged the admission, said just loud enough for only Wirt to hear. “So I might not have anything on under these jeans.”

“Oh my gosh, Dipper,” he huffed out a laugh, both parts delighted by him and very much aroused. Wirt shivered with anticipation, lust sharpening in his loins. The hand on his thigh squeezed firmly, kneading him through the practically skin tight denim as he decided to match him here, too, and let their dance carry through more than just their bodies. “Isn’t that a little presumptuous?” he purred.

“Is it?” He may not have been a poet, but words were his livelihood and he knew how to use them to his advantage. Dipper lifted to his toes, kneading the back of his neck. “Is it presumptuous of me to want to find the nearest flat surface with my lover, anticipation and heat singing through our veins? To want to watch his eyes darken as his long, graceful fingers find me hot and waiting with no more effort than the downward draw of a zipper?”

“Oh my god.” This time his response was strained, Wirt’s eyes already darkening as heat did join the anticipation pulsing in time with their bodies and the beat. His hips bucked into him, the palm of his hand eager to press over him and feel him and his reaction to him through his jeans. He wanted it, too. Caught up in the feel of him, the sound of his voice, his scent as his nose and lips brushed against his hair on a soft groan. “Yes. Yes, it is presumptuous,” he argued if only to maintain some semblance of sanity given the circumstances. “We’re on a dance floor surrounded by people, Dipper.”

“But we don’t have to stay.”

“Thought you wanted to dance with me and eat nachos.”

“Now I want to get you home. I want you in my bed. I want those long legs of yours around my waist as I sink inside. My turn to take care of you.” He licked his lips, turning to face him, cupping his cheeks. “I’m tired of the crowd, and I just want you.”

Wirt pulled him flush against him as he claimed his lips, sinking into a deep, bruising kiss. His need for him swelled, desire staking itself in his heart and he longed for nothing more than to strip Dipper bare in the cool, dark of his apartment and lose themselves to one another until they both fell apart. His hands slid down to cup and knead his ass as he nipped his lower lip before pulling away.

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s go home.”

****

\----

****

They fell into Dipper’s apartment, lips pressed together, fingers tugging at buttons. Mabel’s embarrassingly knowing snickers when they’d said their goodbyes had been enough for both of them to keep their hands to themselves until they’d reached the elevator. They’d been reaching for each other before they hit the second floor.

“You’re so pretty. I’m going to make you feel amazing,” Dipper promised, breaking the kiss to sink his teeth into Wirt’s neck.

It drew a sharp gasp from him that broke into a whimper at the pleasurable sting. “Mmhm.” Wirt’s fingers trembled as he continued unbuttoning Dipper’s shirt, tugging it off his shoulders as soon as he could to toss it aside. “I know you will, kitten. You’re so good.”

Dipper pushed away Wirt’s vest, starting on his shirt next. “Why do you always have on so many clothes?” he muttered, fingers a little clumsy in their haste.

“To make things more difficult for you. Obviously.” Wirt couldn’t help grinning at the way he fumbled, his hand reaching out to cup and fondle him through his jeans. “Heighten the anticipation.”

Letting out a moan, his hands faltered further. Giving up on the buttons, he tugged the article over his head and let it fall as he backed Wirt through the living room and down the hall to his bedroom. “I don’t know that the anticipation can get higher.”

“Not a fan of waiting?” Wirt let himself be corralled towards the bed, fingertips skimming up along his sides and in, brushing over his nipples teasingly. His heart drummed heavily in his chest, his own anticipation coiling within him as he throbbed with need for him. Just because he wanted him now, now, now didn’t mean he wasn’t going to play with Dipper’s impatience.

“When it’s something as important as you?” Though the teasing fingers had a soft gasp escaping, he still managed a smile. “Nah.” When Wirt’s legs hit the side of the bed, Dipper guided him down to sit on the edge and reached over to flick on his bedside lamp to the lowest setting. He wanted to see this. He wanted to watch his boyfriend come apart beneath him.

And he really needed to calm down at least a little to avoid hurting him. Dipper’s lips fell to his shoulder, nippy kisses trailed along the curve.

Wirt hummed his appreciation, eyelids fluttering to half-mast, watching the way the dim light played over his exposed skin. There wasn’t enough of it exposed yet though. One hand lingered on his chest over his heart, feeling the frantic, eager thrumming as he rubbed circles against it. The other dropped to his waist, flicking the button of his jeans undone as he nuzzled him.

“‘M ready to find you hot and waiting,” he murmured against his ear.

Dipper blew out a ragged breath. That wasn’t going to help him calm down, but he straddled Wirt’s lap and rocked into his hand. His lips lifted to his neck, teeth nipping up the column and along his jawline before Dipper captured his lips. “Yeah.”

With an encouraging moan, Wirt let the kiss spin out, lips parted to invite him in. His free hand gripped his hip as he pulled down the zipper, fingers doing just as Dipper wanted as they slipped beneath the waistband to stroke his cock and feel it quiver. Wirt tugged him closer, his hips giving a needy little roll and wriggle.

Dipper groaned into the kiss, hands sliding down his sides to cup his rolling hips and pull him closer in turn. “Your hands are going to be the death of me, babe.” He nudged him back, rutting against his questing fingers and admiring how lovely he was, cheeks flushed with desire, splayed over his sheets. He’d never had anyone in this bed, and he wasn’t going to waste a second. Open-mouthed kisses trailed down his throat, his teasing nips light as he closed his lips around a nipple to tease it into hardness.

Wirt arched under the attention his mouth gave him. A breathless, wanton sound escaped him, mind quickly slipping away as lovely lips and clever teeth sent little sparks straight to it and down to his groin. He curled his fingers around Dipper and gave a firm tug, relishing the way he moved against him for more, like only he could give him everything he ever wanted. “They’re payback for- for your mouth, kitten,” he huffed, blush spreading.

“Just means I need to use it more.” Dipper’s fingers stroked his abdomen above the waistband of his jeans, playing over his skin until reaching the button. He undid it with ease, drawing the zipper down.

Loathe as he was to lose the warmth of clever fingers, Dipper nudged Wirt’s legs apart with his free hand and sank to his knees between them. “God bless whoever got you to buy these,” he murmured, petting his legs over the denim before curling his fingers into the waistband to slide them down. He nuzzled Wirt’s thighs as they were bared, mouthing them as cloth was dragged away.

“Mm… I’ll- I’ll be sure to pass the message along,” Wirt panted, wiggling as he struggled to kick off his shoes through the damp kisses teasing him. Fingers needing something to grip for purchase, and wanting to explore whatever he could of his lover’s body, he tangled them in his curls, petting him reverently as puffs of his breath tickled his inner thigh, so close to his aching need. “Oh my god, Dipper.”

“Hmm? Did you want something?” Dipper purred. He helped him remove his shoes, tugging off his own before returning his attentions to his lover’s legs. He kneaded his calves, fingers steadily working their way up. His mouth slid closer to his shaft, pausing a breath away so his teeth could sink into his thigh to leave a mark.

“Ah- mm…” Wirt pressed his lips together, pout failing as his legs spread instinctively and his length twitched. He swallowed, head swimming with the sensation of seeing his boyfriend between his legs, watching the way his dark gaze flicked up at him. Oh god, he wanted him. He wanted him entirely - his mouth, his touch, he wanted to be filled with him. Though his stubbornness reared its head at how much like a pleased, satisfied cat he seemed. Though his hips lifted, pulse throbbing where Dipper's teeth claimed him, he denied wanting anything. “N-nah, I'm- I'm good-” he hissed and tugged on Dipper's hair. “You can- can just- uh... keep doing what you're doing.”

Amused, satisfied with the intimate bruise forming, he looked up and licked his lips. “Mm. You sure there's not something you want in particular?” Dipper's breath ghosted over his length, mouth settling on the opposing thigh.

“Nothing I can’t- wait patiently for,” he replied hoarsely, hips rocking with shallow, little jerks as one hand fell to Dipper’s shoulder to cling and knead. “Yeah…”

“But I want to give you what you want.” He inched closer, tongue dipping into the crevice where his thigh connected to the rest of his body. A hand slipped up, fingertips just brushing his pulsing arousal before falling lower, thumb rubbing his perineum and down further still to press against his entrance.

Wirt’s head fell back on a squeak of a gasp, fingers flexing and curling against his shoulder. “You.” His other hand found the nape of his lover’s neck to encourage his mouth, to pull him closer. “I want you. I just want to be yours,” he panted, lifting his head as he tilted Dipper’s up to look at him. “Make me yours.”

Dipper dragged his teeth across his lower lip, head turning so his lips could brush over his shaft. “You're already mine, but I'll show you. I'll make sure you never doubt how much I want you to be mine.” He rose, gathering Wirt close to guide him fully onto the bed. He took a pillow and settled it beneath the small of his back. They never bothered when Dipper bottomed, but he wanted to take the time to care. His head dropped, tongue teasing the head of his cock before he was off the bed again to pull away his jeans and grab lube from his bedside table.

Wirt wriggled, testing the cushion Dipper provided. Nobody had ever given him a pillow for his back. His heart fluttered as the clouded haze of arousal parted briefly. “Oh,” he breathed, gaze flicking to watch him and trailed over his figure, losing his focus for a second before finding his face, his own burning. “Thank you, this- this makes a lot of sense, actually.” A mixture of awe, love, and lust churned within him, dizzying and stunning in the same way the sight of him was. Wonder melted into pure devotion, dark gaze turning warm. “You’re beautiful. Inside and out. There’s nobody else I’d want to belong to.”

Dipper crawled back onto the bed, cupping Wirt’s cheek before sinking into a kiss. “My gorgeous poet,” he murmured. “You’re the only one I want to claim. Let me take care of you.” His lips began to trail downwards, the cap of the container popped so he could begin warming the lube between his fingers. “Let me love you.”

Eyes widening, Wirt’s breath hitched. It wasn’t the first time one of them had mentioned something similar in the midst of their lovemaking, but it struck him this time, hard and deep. After all the little things he’d done that day - the tea kettle, letting him go at his own pace, wanting him as he was, Wirt’s joy in Dipper’s joy, the pillow - that stacked themselves in his heart, he found it full to bursting. Overwhelming in the best of ways. Overwhelmed with Dipper Pines.

Wirt wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “Okay,” he exhaled slowly, gaze trained on his face as it followed his kisses down, legs bending at the knee so they could press on either side of him, fitting against him perfectly. “I love you.”

Heart lurching, Dipper stilled. He looked up, searching his flushed face. A hand lifted to lay over Wirt’s heart, awed as he felt its beat. The words really shouldn’t be trusted when they were wrapped up in one another like this, but he’d been holding them back for days. He couldn’t fight them anymore than he could the way hearing them had his own pulse scrambling.

“I love you too, Wirt.” His downward kisses resumed, a slickened finger rubbing his entrance. “I love you.”

“Dipper…” Each brush of his lips was a balm bringing sweet relief while igniting the flame of desire under his skin. Dipper loved him, too. It was almost too much to believe, but his sincerity was palpable. The touch to his heart, the fervent kisses. Dipper loved him.

Wirt ached with love for him, knowing that love was returned. The very core of his being trembled for wanting him, a full-bodied shiver wracking him as he spread himself for him, offering his love and his body, eager to feel him inside the way he could feel the words embedding themselves in mind and heart. Being stubborn didn’t matter anymore, being loved and wanted and taken meant everything. “Please.”

Dipper’s hand left his heart to cup his hip, fingers kneading gently. “I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you everything.” His index finger pressed inside, thrusting carefully. The little gasp he released at the tight heat, his cock throbbing with the desire to be buried within, was against the head of Wirt’s. His gaze lifted, lips wrapping around him as he sank down. He wanted to show this man he was loved in every way he knew how.

The dual sensations had his head spinning. His mouth encasing him hot and maddening as he devoured him. The stretching a discomfort, but a palatable one. With it came the promise of something more, a connection he longed to share with Dipper in every way. He knew what was like being inside him, surrounded by him, drawn into him and craved, and he wanted Dipper to know that same feeling. He wanted to give him everything, too. He moaned as clenched muscles tried to relax and his mind crumbled at the mercy of Dipper’s lips and tongue.

“Yes…” Wirt gripped his shoulders, blunt nails raking over his skin, marking him as his thighs had been marked. “You too. Whatever you want. It’s all yours. Everything. I want you to have everything. I love you.”

Unwilling to lift his head, tongue and throat working to please and distract his lover while a second finger joined the first, he flicked his gaze up and hummed around him. His free hand pet and stroked every bit of skin he could reach. His hip was given a squeeze, silent encouragement to move, before they found his thigh to knead.

“Dipper,” he purred, rocking gently for him. Up drowned him in the heat of sensation, deliciously damp and greedy, and down filled him further, muscles tensing and relaxing around the welcome intrusion. Gaze going hazy and half-lidded, Wirt drank his fill of Dipper watching him, his lips stretched around his length and his own agonizingly wonderful fingers curling inside him or pressing into his skin. Wirt caressed his cheek, adoring him completely.

“So gorgeous. You’re so gorgeous and good, Dipper. Want you, want all of you- oh-!” His back arched as he was blinded by a rush of pure pleasure and he pushed down on his fingers, his own threading through Dipper’s hair. to cling. “ _Oh_. Oh my god-!”

There it was. There.  Dipper kept his fingers crooked just so, rubbing against the spot that had elicited that reaction. His shaft ached to be encased, surrounding by those clenching muscles. He wanted to bury himself inside, to drive Wirt over the edge. Head lifting, his tongue swirled over the head of Wirt’s cock with the same dexterity it took to tie a knot in a cherry stem. “I love you,” he breathed. “You’re so pretty and mine.”

A choked cry burst from him, body quivering from the onslaught that threatened to make him mindless. He needed him. He needed him now. Undulating against the sheets and pillow, Wirt fell into helpless babbling as he clung to him. “Yours! Yours, yes, Dipper- Dipper, please, I need you-”

“Okay, babe, okay.” He sat up, reaching for the bottle of lube and- Oh, no. “Condoms are at your place,” he realized. He was going to die, just die. Heart racing, need thrumming, Dipper quickly considered their options. One was decidedly better than the other. Though he’d never done it, never asked for it, he trusted Wirt. “I’m clean. There’s nothing- I mean, I can go get one and be right back, but...”

“Um…” Attempting to catch his breath, Wirt blinked slowly as his nerves continued to buzz from blissful stimulation. “I- right. Okay. Me either. I mean- me too. I’m clean, too. Yeah. That’s- that’s what I meant. Mmhm.”

He licked his lips, fingers stroking and petting Dipper’s chest, trying to ground himself enough to think clearly about this because it was a huge deal. Bigger than huge. He’d never done anything without protection before. Though he wondered, gazing up at Dipper and feeling how he affected him in the way he trembled, did he really need to be protected from this man? The man he’d already fallen in love with and felt safe with from the start?

Wirt swallowed and met Dipper’s gaze as he nodded. “It’s okay. With me. I trust you.”

“Okay. I trust you, too.” Dipper shifted forward, leaning down to capture his lips and get them back where they’d been seconds before. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” His heart skipped a beat, fingers curling over Dipper’s heart as he kissed him back, his other hand snaking down between them to find and knead his lover’s arousal. “Oh my gosh, I love you.”

“Love you so much,” he moaned, his own hand slipping between them to massage his spit-slicked cock. “I need you, Wirt. Let me have you.”

“I’m yours,” Wirt gasped, rocking into his hand, one leg draping over his waist. “You can have me, Dipper. You can have all of me. Everything.”

Biting his lip, he reached for the lube again. Releasing his boyfriend’s length to pet his thigh, he leaned back to slick himself up. His gaze roamed freely over Wirt’s body, the flush that had paled some steadily creeping back. “I can’t believe you’re mine,” he breathed, grabbing his waist and positioning himself at his entrance.

Slowly, carefully, watching Wirt’s face for any signs of discomfort, he eased inside. Sheathed himself steadily in tight heat. “Ah... Oh my god, babe, you’re so good.”

“Mm… Dipper, kitten, yes…” Wirt’s eyebrows knitted together as he let his eyes close a moment, adjusting to the sensation of being filled, stretched out, having Dipper hot and throbbing inside him. He let out a soft moan, both legs banding around him as he relaxed. “So good. You- you can…” Wirt opened his eyes, dark and damp and full of desire, and he rolled his hips experimentally on a sigh. “Whenever you’re ready. Just want to feel you. Want to feel you feel good.”

Dipper nodded, finding his hands to lace their fingers. The most intimate of connections was made more so with nothing between them. Skin to skin, he couldn’t breathe. The heat around him was astounding, the little roll of Wirt’s hips making him whimper. He gave a roll of his own, lowering his brow to Wirt’s. “You’re incredible,” he praised, releasing his hands to grip his waist as his hips began shallow thrusts to ease them both into motion.

Wirt’s hands framed Dipper’s face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones as he drew him in for a kiss. With each slide, a soft sound spilled from his lips to his lover’s mouth. There was poetry in being able to feel only Dipper inside him, only his vibrant heat, but he couldn’t for the life of him find words to describe it, rapidly losing himself to the rhythm they were building. Easy and careful, but intoxicating nonetheless. Just like with dancing, Wirt matched his thrusts, breaking the kiss on a breathless moan as his body drew him in further, loving the feel of him.

Moving quicker, awed by the way Wirt matched him beat for beat, Dipper gripped him tighter and hiked him up. “So good. You feel so good.” He ducked his head, peppering his neck with damp kisses.

“Dipper,” he panted, squirming in his grasp as he adjusted to the new angle. Wirt let his head loll to one side and his arms wrapped around his shoulders to cling as he rocked with him. His length bobbed between them, grazing Dipper’s stomach teasingly and sent desperate, little thrills through him with each brush. “Wanna be good for you. Oh my god, it’s- you’re- god, I love you. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t. I won’t, I promise. Love you too, babe.” Dipper nipped at his neck, a hand leaving his hips to wrap around his arousal. He pumped in time with their thrusts, pausing now and then to rub his thumb against the damp, weeping tip. “God, Wirt...”

His hips stuttered every time he took the time to, bucking up sharply on one of the swipes over the slit. Wirt drove Dipper right into his sweet spot, practically coming undone right there. Stars blinded him as he writhed against the sheets with a sob. “Dipper!”

Dipper cried out as already tight muscles clamped around him and he aimed his next thrust to drive them both mad. “Wirt. Wirt, babe, let go. It’s okay. You’re so good, so beautiful.” He nipped his neck, right over a healing hickey. “I love you.”

“I love you. I love you, too. I love you-” Wirt choked out, the words pouring from him. He was lost to everything but that. Loving Dipper, being loved by him, making love with him. He was filled with it, surrounded by it, by him, and it quickly dragged him over the edge. Release hit him hard, back arching away from the bed as spasms rocked his hips into Dipper’s relentlessly and out of rhythm, spilling over his hand and their stomachs on a wrecked cry of his name.

Dipper stared at him with wide eyes, watching him come undone, feeling it in the vice grip around his cock. Hand milking his release, he gave two more thrusts before giving into his own. He plunged deep, desperate little mewls muffled against Wirt’s neck as he came.

Wirt’s breath hitched, body shuddering at the extra, unexpected stimulation of actually feeling his release inside him. Muscles twitching, Wirt let out a small mewl of his own and pressed close to Dipper. His arms and legs tightened around him, one hand burying itself in his hair and stroking him as they both came down, trembling and clinging to one another.

When he could catch his breath, Dipper nuzzled him gently. “That... wow.” He lifted his head to rest their brows together. “You love me?”

Wirt exhaled shakily, his heart steadily returning to a more regular beat. He met Dipper’s gaze, shyness creeping into his own. “I do,” he murmured, petting along his spine. “I know it’s soon, but… I really do love you. Is that okay?”

“Yes, that's- that's so okay. I don't care that it's fast. Everything with you has been fast, and I don't care.” He brushed their lips together. “Because it's you, and I'm seriously in love with you.”

“Oh my gosh.” Heart swelling, the words washing over him fully now that the haze of arousal had faded, Wirt cupped the back of his head and pulled him in for another, firmer kiss. “Say it again,” he requested, an awed sort of smile tugging at his lips.

“I love you, Wirt. So much.”

“I love you, too.” Wirt positively beamed at him, cupping his cheek with one hand, the gesture tender as he delighted in it. “Dipper, I’m in love with you.”

With a laugh, Dipper turned his head to press a kiss to his palm. “I've never said that to someone who wasn't family. You know how some people just throw the words around? I don't.” He smiled, looking back at him. “I love you. Wow.”

“Wow,” Wirt echoed, rubbing their noses together. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re in love with me. You’re just… incredible.”

“So are you.” He tangled their fingers together, the other hand petting his thigh. “Every bit of you is.”

Wirt squeezed his hand. Every bit definitely felt right, still connected in the most physically intimate way they could be. Free hand stroking along his side, he hummed his contentment at still feeling him inside. “Every bit of you, too,” he purred. “You're really good at taking care of me.”

“Anything for you.” Lips curved, Dipper held back the urge to wriggle against him. It was comfortable against him, inside of him, but it was bound to start bothering those long legs eventually. “Ready for me to pull out or are you okay still?”

“I’m okay still. It’s… it’s nice. It’s different and new with you and not- not just because you’re not wearing a condom, though that’s pretty nice, too.” Wirt’s smile turned sheepish at the admission. “But if you’re ready to move, then I’m not going to stop you.”

“Mm-mm. I'm not the one who has to deal with after, and... well, it's nice, yeah. I've never been... committed enough to not wear one.” He released his hand to stroke his hair. “If it was anyone else or if I felt differently about you, I would've gotten up or we would've done something different. This is... very, very nice and you're very, very warm. So, y'know, next time I bottom, I wouldn't mind if... if you didn't wear one? If you didn't want to.”

“Oh, wow. Okay. Yeah, I.... I’d like to do this again, as long as you’re okay with it. As long as you want to. I’d like to be inside you and know what it’s like. You’re also warm.” He tilted his head into his hand, both arms winding around him once again. “Warm and safe. I can’t imagine feeling comfortable enough with anyone else to let them. I haven’t ever before.”

Dipper grinned, ducking his head to press a damp kiss to his neck. “Good. There's a lot of 'I've never' with you. I like that. I like being in love with you.”

Wirt hugged him close, nuzzling him as he pressed his smile into his hair and savored their connection for a minute longer. “I like being in love with you, too.”

When he shifted, both of them catching their breaths at the sensation and his legs lessened their grip, Dipper took it as the signal to move. He caressed his sides and sank into a deep, distracting kiss while his hips drew back. It was a wet withdrawal, and Dipper could only imagine how his boyfriend felt. “You okay?” he murmured. “Not hurting?”

Brow furrowed, Wirt scrunched up his face at the empty, wet feeling left behind. “No. Not hurting. Just feels weird. And messy.” Petting Dipper’s shoulders, he swallowed and relaxed a bit as he sought his gaze. He offered a smile to reassure him, craning his neck up to brush their lips together. “I’m okay.”

Dipper hummed, staying cuddled close a moment longer before sitting up and climbing out of bed. “Be right back, babe.” Tossing a grin over his shoulder, gaze lingering over the man, he felt his heart swell and was awed to know the feelings he'd been carrying around were returned. He couldn't help but lean down for another quick kiss before leaving him.

He was quick in the bathroom, wiping himself with a damp washcloth. It was rinsed and wrung out, dampened with warm water when he returned to his lover, his eyes closed and hips still elevated by the pillow. Dipper cleaned him gently, rubbing the cloth against him in soothing circles. “Do you need me to do anything for you?”

Despite having done it for Dipper, the gentle warmth was a pleasant surprise. His care was more than he could have ever asked for. Wirt hummed, shaking his head minutely as he opened his eyes to find him. “Mm-mm. Just want to lay with you,” he murmured and reached out to cup his cheek. “And tell you I love you. I’m never going to get tired of saying that.”

“Good. I won't get tired of hearing it.” He balled up the cloth, easing the pillow out from beneath his lover, and dropped them together off the side of his bed. “I won't get tired of saying it back, either.” Dipper helped him get beneath the covers, switching off the lamp before cuddling close.

“I love you, Wirt.”

“I love you too, Dipper.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the string of daily updates. We'll post the remaining chapters as they're finished! Thanks for sticking with us through the spam! lol


	8. Chapter 8

Mabel spent most of Saturday morning knitting, bothering Grunkle Stan, and exploring the building to see if she couldn’t find any new tenants. She’d always loved the building, the excitement of people coming and going, meeting them all as lease agreements were signed or tours given to prospective renters.

So much had changed in the fifteen years since their first summer at the old complex and how it was now, but she was pleased to know her feelings about it remained as warm and fuzzy as ever.

Maybe a little more so now after catching a glimpse of her twin and his boyfriend as they’d left that morning for a date of grocery shopping and brunch. She couldn’t remember ever seeing her brother so happy with someone before. Too often she’d seen him try to be open with his affections only to be brushed aside, chastised, invalidated. Too often she’d seen him wondering what he was doing wrong.

Wirt was good for him. It was obvious, had been obvious even through their video chats. He’d finally found someone who made him feel special, and that made her giddy. A little jealous, admittedly, but absolutely giddy. Her little brother deserved someone who could chase away the lonely he carried around.

Someone he would take the time to base a character off of. She'd seen the concept art in his sketchbook and had recognized exactly what it was.

Grinning, eager to see how her brother had portrayed a fictional version of his boyfriend, she bundled her knitting into a bag and quickly made her way to their floor. A key ring stolen from her great-uncle jingled in her hand, a master key only a select few knew about ready to unlock his door. He’d be annoyed with her for reading book four without permission, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d done so. And the annoyance would fade, she knew. She was used to her twin’s annoyance.

She wasn’t used to and didn’t expect the annoyance of the woman rapping on Wirt’s door as she skipped down the hall towards their apartments.

“Cheese and crackers, what the heck are you doing in there?” A red-headed woman glowered at the door as if it had done her a personal disservice by standing in her way. “I swear, if he’s not answering because he’s in the shower because he woke up fifteen minutes ago, I’m gonna punch him.”

She knocked loudly four more times, waited about four seconds, then rolled her eyes and removed two bobby pins from her short crop of red hair. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she muttered under her breath. She stuck them in the lock and began to fiddle with them, oblivious to how suspicious she may have seemed to any passerbys.

Mabel giggled, unable to help it. She could get behind anyone who was willing and able to break into a friend’s apartment. “Wirt’s not actually home, but do you want help with that?”

One of the bobby pins nearly snapped as the woman hurriedly removed them from the lock. “Shoot, you actually know the guy that lives here? Like he actually leaves and you see him walking around enough that you know he lives here- wait.” Mabel’s words caught up with the woman and her “busted” expression immediately shifted into something perturbed. “What do you mean he’s not home? His car’s out in the lot. Actually, I wouldn’t put it past the nerd to try and go for a poetic nature walk in the middle of the freaking city. Don’t tell me that’s actually what he’s doing.”

“They took Dipper’s car. That’s my brother. They’re dating. He’s on a date.” Grinning, Mabel stuck the key in her twin’s door. “Let me grab something really quick and then we can break into Wirt’s place. He actually has drinks, and the boys should be home soon anyway. Oh!” She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m Mabel, by the way. Hi!”

“Hi…” The woman stared at her blankly for a moment. “I’m Beatrice and did you just say Wirt’s on a date?”

“Mmhm!” Mabel let herself into Dipper’s apartment then offered the keys to Beatrice. “This’ll open his door. I’ll be right there.”

She took the keys and used them to open Wirt’s front door. The bobby pins were slipped into her jacket pocket as she stepped inside, bland look growing increasingly annoyed as the seconds passed. Leaving the door open, she shucked off her coat and tossed it onto Wirt’s armchair as she stalked to his couch and flopped down, arms stretched along the back of it like she owned the place, and let her gaze rove over the poet’s home. It all looked the same as ever, the perfect hideaway for a bookish recluse who only left it in order to teach children to read and write. Yet little did she know he was apparently hiding a secret side from her. A secret side that knew how to get a date.

Beatrice snorted, the idea too ridiculous to even consider seriously. Wirt and dating? Wirt and dating. Wirt was dating someone, it had to be a joke.

Mabel skipped in, setting her bag on the armchair and her brother’s laptop on the trunk. “Do you want anything to drink? I’m getting a soda.”

“I’ll get one in a minute. Still trying to wrap my head around this,” she replied. “Thanks though.”

Laughing, Mabel flitted to the kitchen and grabbed two sodas anyway. She dropped onto the armchair after passing one over, beaming. “Is Wirt dating that much of a surprise? It is for my brother too.”

“Surprise doesn’t even begin to cover it. One, he usually has terrible taste. Two, he’s the least receptive person to flirting - like, you literally have to beat him over the head with a stick in order for him to get it which is ridiculous because he’s an English teacher and knows how to read between the lines. And three… well, he never leaves the house and has terrible taste. I don’t think he’s been on a date for over a year. The last one I remember was my doing. I kidnapped him and then left him at a restaurant with some guy and didn’t tell him it was a date.” Her lips quirked up at that. “That was pretty funny actually.”

Beatrice suddenly turned her attention complete to Mabel as she cracked open the can. “But he’s dating your brother now? How long has this been going on? Is this the first date? Second?”

Delighted, Mabel squirmed in her seat. No wonder they suited each other so well. It had been that long for Dipper, too, and he was wretched at flirting. Really, how had they managed this relationship without help? “Honestly, I don't know exactly when it started because my brother's awful at telling me things like that and I've been in Europe for work. I just got home Thursday. But it's absolutely not the first or second date because it's been a few weeks. They've also been sleeping together, but I don't know when that happened either. But after watching them dance at Corduroy's last night, wow.” She grinned, setting her soda aside to retrieve her knitting. “Um. Oh! They spent Thanksgiving at Wirt's house, they've been to Northwest's, and those are the two main ones that I know of. I know there've been more.”

Beatrice nearly choked on her soda and had to put hers down, too. “ _Corduroy’s_? Thanksgiving- they’re _sleeping_ together? Holy jalapeño, Wirt. You freaking- sorry. Sorry, this is just weird to hear. I’ve known the guy since he was, like, fifteen, and he’s always been such a loser.”

“So has Dipper! It's perfect!” She retrieved her phone, quickly pulling up photographs. “Here. I took a few last night. Dressing Dipper up is impossible, and they just looked so cute together. I couldn't resist.”

“Okay, I’ve gotta see this. Wirt and clubs do not mix, no matter how hard I’ve tried.” Beatrice hopped up and went to the side of the armchair to get a good look at the pictures. “At least he’s wearing the clothes I made him buy and- oh my god, is that your brother? He’s cute! I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Oh, man… wow, he looks a lot like you. You guys twins or something?”

“Yeah, we're twins.” She swiped through the pictures. “We've got a friend in Northwest's, and she sent me this. Dipper's never taken anyone there. I was _shocked_.”

Beatrice let out a low whistle as looked over the picture. “They look way too comfortable with each other - while in suits and at a fancy restaurant, no less. How the heck did this happen? Your brother must be a miracle worker or something. Dipper, you said?” She turned over the name in her mind a minute, then shrugged. “Well, it’s no weirder a name than Wirt.”

“I thought Wirt was the miracle worker. It's been over a year since Dipper's last date, too, and he doesn't even have a job that makes him leave. He's an author and artist, so works from home. But he can't cook, so they met during one of the evacuations and then Wirt offered how to teach him how to cook! And now they're in love.” Mabel sighed, patting her heart. “It's really sweet.”

“They’re in love because Wirt offered to teach him how to cook.” Beatrice shook her head, letting out a laugh as she pictured it. “Wow. Just- wow. Well, I guess that’s one way to meet a guy.”

“Yep! They’re off shopping right now, but it’s been a few hours. I think-” Her phone buzzed and she smiled at the message.

_U weren’t at ur place? Bought u a thing_

_I do love getting things_ , she sent back. _I’m at Wirt’s place._

There was a stretch without a reply, Mabel grinning at Beatrice. “They’re home.”

Her phone buzzed again, and she only laughed at the angry, _MABEL._

“I’m gonna go say hi.”

“I'm going to ambush Wirt the second he walks through the door.” Beatrice grinned, taking a long sip from her soda. “I'd appreciate it if you'd keep my presence just between us girls.”

“You got it!” Beaming, she bounced out of the apartment and right into an annoyed voice telling her she couldn’t just go into his place because they were dating. Mabel waved away his concerns, pushing open his still unlocked apartment since both men had their hands full of bags. “Is that everything?”

“Yeah, but I’m so taking back what I got you. You don’t deserve it.”

She giggled. “I had a very good reason for going into his place, I promise. My knitting’s still in there, actually. Wirt, do you mind going to get it after you put those bags down? Oh! And Dipper’s laptop is still over there too.”

“Why is my-” As they crossed into his kitchen, Dipper shot his twin a glare. “Were you reading book four?!”

“I was going to,” she admitted cheerfully.

“ _Mabel_!”

“Oh, calm down, bro-bro.” She patted his cheeks. “It’s not the first one I read ahead of print.”

Wirt set his bags down on the counter, his worries over someone having been in his apartment without his prior knowledge easing some as the twins went back and forth. Especially since Dipper had taken to being offended on his behalf, amusing him more than anything. “Yeah, I'll get them. Or you guys can come over if you want once everything's put away. I don't mind.”

“That works too!”

Dipper huffed, emptying bags. He hadn't gone grocery shopping in the two months he'd lived there beyond the occasional stop for milk or bread. Now, not only was there milk and bread, there were fresh fruits and vegetables, canned things, boxes that weren't just cereal. Things he liked to eat, but never got a chance to because he couldn't cook.

His irritation melted as his pantry and fridge were filled, smile returning. His boyfriend had let him explore the store with the same eager excitement he'd subjected him to when appliance shopping. As much as he disliked grocery shopping, being with Wirt had made it fun. The numerous kisses exchanged throughout had helped too.

Nearly finished putting things away, he caught Wirt by the stove - the stove they'd picked together - and wrapped his arms around his neck. He rubbed their noses together. “I love you,” he murmured because it had been a while.

Wirt's scrunched as he lit up and pulled him close by banding his arms around his waist. “I love you, too.” He claimed a quick kiss, then a second one that lingered after further reflection. The one just hadn't been enough.

Mabel bit back a delighted squeal, but only just. She'd known it just by watching them together, but to hear it? That was incredible and sweet and so completely unlike her twin.

Dipper ended the kiss, unable to keep his grin at bay. The words were indeed unlike him, still so shiny and new, but he couldn't resist saying them. He didn't want to. “I guess we should get stuff out of your place, so we can get rid of Mabel.”

“Mm, your stuff can stay,” Wirt hummed, rubbing his lips together to savor the sensation, smile just as unable to be contained. “If you wanted to stay. Mabel's stuff can go away though, yeah.”

With an amused smile, Mabel started out. “I'm going over now.”

“Oh my god. Mabel, you can't just-” Dipper huffed, his protests doing nothing to deter his already vanished sister. “Seriously, I'm really sorry about her. She's sort of the worst sometimes. Like, she and Grunkle Stan don't believe in personal boundaries at all.”

Wirt chuckled and shrugged it off. “Hey, I get it. Greg isn't always about personal bubbles either. It's fine. As long she doesn't, you know, vandalize the place.” Wirt held his hand out to Dipper, giving it a squeeze once he took it, leading him towards his apartment. “It's okay, really. I still love you. Worst sister and all.”

Seeing that his apartment door was still open, Wirt backed into it so he could keep his eyes on his boyfriend. Only to be shrouded in darkness immediately as a pair of hands covered his eyes from behind and a deep voice hissed, “boo,” right into his ear. Wirt jumped with a choked gasp sound and swung around to face the intruder, only to gape as he was met with Beatrice's snicker.

“ _You_.”

“Oh man, that never gets old,” she laughed, swatting his shoulder as he flushed darkly. “So hi, Wirt. How's the not-so-single life treating you?”

“Oh my gosh. Who told you?”

“Not. You.” She smacked him twice more. “Seriously, Wirt? You finally get some after god knows how long and you don't even tell me? I'm offended. Completely, unforgivably offended. How am I supposed to do a thorough background check on your dates if I don't even know you're dating anyone?”

“That's why I didn't tell you. And because if I did, you'd find a way to break into my apartment.” Wirt's shock faded into a glower. “As you clearly have.”

“Guilty!” Mabel chirped, lounging in the armchair. “I was just going to break into Dipper's place, but when I got up here, Beatrice was threatening you with bodily harm and trying to pick the lock. So I let her in!”

Dipper shook his head. “That explains so much.” Hands buried into his pockets, he rocked back on his heels and offered the redhead a smile. “Hi. I don't know what Mabel told you, but please keep in mind that she exaggerates.”

“She said you're the guy my friend here's been sleeping with. That an exaggeration?” Beatrice folded her arms across her chest as she gave him a once-over and lifted an eyebrow.

Wirt squeezed between them as he glared at her, absolutely mortified at her bluntness. “Beatrice!”

“What?”

He ignored her and turned to Dipper. “I am so sorry. She's impossible. I had no idea she was even in town or I would've warned you and we would've left and gone far away.” Rubbing his brow, he gestured to her. “This is Beatrice. I've known her since... well, high school, basically.”

“Therapy buds for life,” she drawled, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “Believe it or not, he used to be shorter than me.”

“And Beatrice, this is Dipper, my boyfriend,” Wirt continued as if she hadn't said anything. “Be nice.”

“I don't have time to be nice.” She waved him off.

“Again, I'm so sorry. Let's get your laptop and go back to your place.”

Dipper laughed, shaking his head, but “therapy buds” worked through his mind. He’d been in therapy? Why? For how long? He wanted to ask him about it, but held his tongue for the time being. They still had a cooking lesson later, and that left plenty of opportunity to talk since it would keep Dipper’s attention from wandering. “I don’t mind, babe. I think you’ve dealt with enough people I know that I can put up with one of your friends.”

“Aw, that's sweet, Wirt. He thinks we're friends.”

Wirt pursed his lips, glancing between them. “She doesn't show mercy. It's really okay if we run away.”

“Oh, Wirt, that’d be so rude.” Mabel giggled, all for embarrassing the boys as much as possible. “You can’t just go.”

“Yes, we can.”

“Uh-huh. Right. We haven't seen each other since August, nerd brain. Now that you've seen me, you're gonna cry the second I'm out of your sight,” Beatrice snorted, then nodded at Mabel. “He always does.”

“She's lying. She's a liar.”

“You missed me.”

“Yes, I did. Until you actually got here.”

“Hm. I wonder what that’s like.” Dipper sent his twin a bland stare, earning a winning smile in return.

“You love me.”

“That’s what you think.” He took a hold of Wirt’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Since I’m pretty sure that if we try to leave one or both of them will follow us anyway, we’ll stay. It’s fine.”

Wirt sighed, but squeezed back before allowing Beatrice to herd them over to the couch. She grabbed one of the chairs from the table and dragged it over so she could straddle it and have both Dipper and Wirt in her sight. She glanced from one to the other, fixating on Dipper.

“So. Let's get the basics out of the way. What do you do for a living? Ever been to prison? Done drugs? Do you feel the need to be the one in control in the relationship and why?”

“Beatrice, please-”

“Hush, Wirt, grown-ups are talking.” She silenced him and he huffed.

Dipper leaned against his boyfriend, grinning. “I'm a writer. Juvie doesn't count as prison and that was only once-”

“Twice,” his twin interrupted.

He waved a dismissive hand. “I don't count the Gideon thing because I was right. Let's see... Never done drugs. And I don't think anyone's in control of a relationship unless it's a dom/submissive thing. A relationship's a negotiation, not a dictatorship.”

Beatrice grinned. “I like your style. And juvie, huh? We're cut from the same cloth.”

“I'm sure he didn't go to juvie for the same reasons you did.” Wirt leaned back into Dipper, cheek resting against his head. “You went to juvie twice?”

“Wirt, focus. This is my question and answer time. Not yours.” Beatrice shifted her stern gaze to Dipper. “Where do you see yourself in ten years? And how do you plan on providing for Wirt?”

“Oh my gosh. You're the one who's always telling me, ‘it's a date, Wirt, not a marriage proposal. Just stick your tongue down his throat already.’”

Beatrice didn't bat an eyelash. “See? He clearly needs help with everyday life.”

The twins exchanged glances and grins, though Mabel quickly dissolved into snickering. Dipper shook his head. “I’ll tell you why I went to juvie later. As for ten years from now, I don’t project that far. Other people are involved in those scenarios, and most people... aren’t reliable enough for that. So I live in the present and see what happens.”

He lifted Wirt’s hand to his lips. “But Wirt doesn’t need to be provided for. The way I see it, he’s done fine on his own. But if he ever wanted to do something crazy and stop illuminating the lives of teenagers, I’d take care of him. Mostly because he’s really good at sticking his tongue down my throat, but y’know.”

A completely love struck expression had flickered on his face that shifted into flustered mortification by the end. “Seriously?”

“Well, what else do you think you're good for?” Beatrice snickered. “Your secret secrets of poetry and clarinet?”

Wirt rolled his eyes. “Don't even start. Dipper already knows all about the poetry and clarinet, so you're not getting me there.”

“Oh?” Beatrice raised an eyebrow as she sat up straight in the chair, her grin sly and slow in coming. “He knows about the poetry? He _is_ special then.”

“Yeah, he is.” Wirt defended, cheeks still dusted with pink. “So can we move on from your weird Q and A so you can get to know him like a real person?”

Beatrice hummed to herself, surveying the two of them in-person, as a couple, then shrugged and leaned forward, arms folded on the back of the chair. “Yeah, okay. You passed my inspection with a B plus anyway. I hereby approve your relationship.”

“Only a B plus? Ow.”

Mabel laughed, picking up her forgotten soda and finally cracking it open. “There goes your 4.0, Dipper. How's it feel to be common?”

“Shut up.” He snuggled closer to his boyfriend, brushing a kiss to his neck. “I'm not common. My boyfriend just said I'm special, and his grades are the ones that count.” He cupped Wirt's cheek to turn his head, the next kiss for his lips. “I'd take care of you because I love you and because I know you wouldn't expect me to.”

Wirt pursed his lips as he tipped his head into his palm. “I wouldn't put you in that position, but... it means a lot. That you would. I'd do the same for you, you know, aside from offering you cooking lessons.”

“Still can't believe that's how you got a boyfriend.” Beatrice rolled her eyes.

“Well, excuse me for not wanting someone to end up homeless on the streets just because he can't cook.”

“Homeless?” Mabel giggled while her twin ducked his head to hide a smile, hand falling to pluck at Wirt’s sweater. “Oh my gosh, Wirt, you’re so cute.”

Wirt blinked, glancing between the two of them as he fidgeted under their combined amusement. “What? It's- it's a legitimate concern.”

“Maybe with somebody else!”

“Leave him alone,” Dipper protested. “He's sweet. You know how many people try to take advantage, but he's-”

“Do you think you would've ended up back in Europe with me?” Mabel interrupted. “Or would you have bought that house you've been looking at just outside the city for ages? At this point, you could probably pay cash for it like you did your car.”

Twisting the worn ballcap to the side, Dipper hid his face against Wirt's shoulder and shrugged his own. He wasn't overly fond of discussing money, less so since he'd acquired plenty of it.

It hit Wirt like a drumstick to the face. His boyfriend was a best-selling author. “Oh my gosh. You weren't at risk of being on the streets at all.”

“Wow, Wirt,” Beatrice snickered.

Flustered, he pressed close to Dipper. “Well- well, it's not like I knew at the time! He was just my cute neighbor who kept setting off the fire alarm, I didn't know what he did for a living! Not that it would've stopped me from offering, I mean, no one deserves to lose their home.”

Mabel bit her lip in much the same way as her twin, but quickly gave in to the laughter. “True. But I understand why you'd be clueless. Dipper does _not_ give off a rich boy vibe. Probably because his clothes are older than-” She broke off on a squeal, narrowly avoiding getting struck in the nose by his glasses case. “Rude!”

“Stop talking.”

“Ooh, how rich we talking?” Beatrice leaned forward with a grin.

“We're not talking about this, Beatrice. Stop prying.” Wirt kicked at her, only for her to stick her tongue out at him. “And you're supposed to be an adult.”

“After his first two books ended up on the best-sellers list-”

“Mabel-”

“He got a huge boost in base pay. And that's not even talking about royalties and the mov-”

She yelped when her twin pounced on her, a hand clapping over her mouth. “No. Stop. No. We're not talking about this.”

“Wait, movie?” Beatrice perked up at that while Wirt blinked at his boyfriend. “What book series do you write?”

“I'm not actually allowed to say because I write under a pen name.” Giving his sister a warning glare, Dipper snagged his glasses case to throw again if necessary and eased  back. “Besides, the movie thing is still under negotiation-”

“Because you won't pick a screenwriter.”

He glared at her again, dropping back onto the couch. He glanced at Wirt, but couldn't quite meet his gaze as discomfort settled into his gut and made him squirm. “Well, yeah, but it's still under negotiation which means, _Mabel_ ,” she grinned, “that I'm not supposed to talk about it. So stop it.”

“I'm allowed to brag about my bro-bro.”

“As the oldest of eleven kids, I can confirm this right to brag about siblings and their accomplishments.” Beatrice nodded sagely, lifting her soda as if to toast the air. “But if you legally can't say anything else, then I'll respect that. At least until I can get Wirt to spill the beans because I bet he knows and he's the worst liar.”

“What? No. No, I don't.” Though he was looking at Beatrice, Wirt slipped his hand into Dipper's and squeezed.

“You totally do.”

“No, I know nothing.”

“Have you read any of his books?”

“Yes. Wait-” Wirt faltered, cheeks puffing out. “Okay, yes, I know what they are, but that doesn't mean I'm going to tell you.”

“After all we've been through?” Beatrice placed her hand over her heart. “Wirt, I'm hurt.”

“You'll get over it.”

Beatrice looked pointedly to Dipper as she gestured to Wirt. “See what an insensitive jerk he is? Hope you're prepared to deal with all that.”

Dipper entangled their fingers, scooting closer to rest his cheek against his boyfriend's shoulder. The little show of support had gone a long way towards settling his nerves. “I'm completely prepared and willing to deal with all this.”

Accepting that taking his boyfriend out of the line of fire put him in it, Wirt shouldered the burden with dignity. “You sure? I've been told that I can be quite the handful.” He nuzzled Dipper's head gently.

“Oh. Such a handful.” Beatrice rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, you've been nothing but trouble. I don't know how I've been dealing with you.” With a laugh, Dipper tilted his head back to brush their lips together, and then looked to Beatrice. There wasn't a rule that said they were the only ones who could be questioned. “So you have _ten_ younger siblings? How did you survive?”

“Lots and _lots_ of therapy.” Beatrice grinned. “It's not easy, that's for sure.”

“It sounds exciting!”

Dipper snorted. “One sibling’s enough, thanks.”

“Agreed.” Wirt nodded. “I can’t imagine trying to keep up with two Gregs.”

“At least your brother’s a sweetheart. And it’s not like siblings are clones or anything, they all have their own personalities,” Beatrice pointed out. “Also chances are with ten siblings you’re bound to get along great with one of them. Though don’t get me wrong, I hated it at first. Always babysitting, all the time, always chaos, but once I moved out, I realized I hated it a little less than I thought.” She winked.

Dipper grinned. “Only a little?”

“Eleven kids. Sharing one bathroom. Believe me when I say it’s only a little.”

It was Wirt’s turn to roll his eyes. “Your house had three and a half bathrooms.”

“Did it? Felt like we only had one.”

“Still a bad ratio,” Dipper defended. No one in his family had ever seemed to understand what “don't come in” meant. How much worse would it have been in a family of thirteen?

Mabel giggled. “I still say it would've been fun to have more siblings. Or clones, actually. Clones would be neat.”

“So says the favorite child.”

“Aw, I’m sensing some resentment over in this corner.” Beatrice pointed at Dipper.

With some of their past conversations regarding Dipper’s parents in mind, not to mention his resistance to seeing them without Mabel, Wirt pressed closer and tucked his arm around his waist. It might have been a joke, normal playful banter between siblings, but on the off-chance there actually was something behind the words, Wirt was going to do his part to distract from it. He nuzzled him until he could press light kisses to his jaw.

“If you had a clone, he could walk around as your penname and you could continue life as a recluse with me.”

“If my clone was smart - and, well, it’d be _my_ clone, so yeah.”

“Careful, Dipper, we might not be able to see you through your ego if it grows anymore.”

“Shut up, Mabel.” He couldn’t work up the glare, too pleased with the attention from his boyfriend. “Anyway, if my clone was smart, he’d fight me for you. So probably a bad idea.”

“True, I don’t know what I’d do with two of you. Especially if I had to teach you both how to cook.” Lips curving, he pressed them to Dipper’s neck.

“Just lock the clone in the closet when you’re not using him.” Beatrice put in, shaking her head at their coupley antics despite her interest in Wirt’s open and affectionate display.

Dipper bit back most of the laugh since it tried to come out as a giggle, head tilting to the side to encourage Wirt to do as he liked. “Probably wouldn’t work.”

“We know how to pick locks. His clone would probably know how too,” Mabel mused, eyes and smile bright. She’d seen bits and pieces of this, though it had been tempered with shyness from them both. Particularly Wirt, who was still unused to her presence and the wealth of personality that came with it. Though she’d never quite seen her brother like this, which was fascinating and delightful in its own right. He’d never been one to tell someone to stop, but he’d never been so open to them either.

“That would certainly make things interesting. Did you pick up that skill before or after juvie?” Beatrice inquired.

“Both.”

“After the first time, before the second,” Mabel clarified. “Grunkle Stan decided we should know how to bust out.”

“Not the best influence, our Grunkle Stan.” Dipper cupped Wirt's chin so he could rub their noses together, pressing a kiss to the scrunch. “So what put you in juvie, Beatrice?”

“Vandalism. Was caught throwing rocks at my middle school and broke a few windows. It’s also what got me into therapy in the first place. Part of the sentence.”

Wirt stole a small kiss, his smile tipped towards satisfied. “She had a lot of unresolved anger management issues.”

“From being the oldest of eleven kids, man, I’m telling you. It wasn’t easy.” She rubbed her chin as she watched the two of them until Wirt sighed and settled for resuming their snuggling. “So, since I shared, I think it’s only fair we hear about your two stints. What sort of bad boy did goody, goody Wirt get saddled with?”

“To be fair, I only count the first time because that was stupid and Mabel was there too.”

“It was worth it!”

“And Grunkle Stan encouraged it.”

Mabel laughed. “As only a man of such wisdom would do.”

“We broke into and graffitied the apartment complex across the street because the owners - the Gleefuls - were actually trying to buy us out.” He shrugged. “We couldn’t let that happen. Grunkle Stan’s owned this place for...” The twins exchanged glances. “At the time, what, forty years?”

“Give or take.”

“Yeah. So we got caught because _somebody_ spray-painted her name on the wall.”

Mabel fluffed her hair. “An artist always takes credit, bro-bro.”

“Fellow vandals. Nice.” Beatrice held out her fist to bump it against Dipper’s. “Even if you don’t count the second time, you can’t leave us wondering about it.”

“Why are you involving me in this?” Wirt lifted his eyebrow.

Beatrice waved off his question. “Don’t even pretend you’re not curious.”

Dipper tucked an arm around Wirt’s waist, humming. “Alright, sure. They’re technically connected anyway. We ended up with community service - which meant having to clean up the mess we’d made - because little snot-nosed Gideon Gleeful got the dumbest crush on Mabel.”

She poked her own cheeks, beaming. “It’s because I’m fantastically adorable in every way.”

“Or because he was crazy and since he started stalking you, I’m going with crazy.”

Her lips pursed, though her consideration only lasted a second before she waved it off. “No. I’m pretty adorable.”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “So _basically_ I may or may not have beat him senseless because he wouldn’t leave Mabel alone and, y’know, people tend not to like when you put another kid in the hospital. So...”

“Juvie!” she sing-songed. “I appreciated it, Dipper, and at least you got out.”

“Mmhm. So, yeah, I was totally in the right and actually got acquitted of that one, so I don’t count it.”

“It’s basically like self-defense anyway. I mean, what were you gonna do, just let some creep kid creep on your sister? Heck no.” Beatrice gestured to herself. “I’ve been there. I get it.”

“I do, too.” Wirt rubbed gentle circles against the small of Dipper’s back. “Just from a protective older brother’s perspective, but you know.”

“Yeah. Even though you’re a total pushover, you’ve got a lot more going for you than you let on. You’re a bit more durable than you make yourself seem.” Beatrice drained the rest of her soda, then looked to Mabel for confirmation on whether or not she wanted a refill as she stood up to fetch more cans, crushing her own in her fist.

Wirt huffed, but nodded as his friend started towards the kitchen. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, Beatrice.”

“Anytime, Wirt.”

When her twin sent her a meaningful look, Mabel sighed gustily and quickly followed Beatrice into the kitchen. Dipper looked to his boyfriend, plucking at his sweater. “So I like your friend even though she only gave me a B plus.”

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about half the time. You’re definitely A plus boyfriend material in my book.” Wirt wrapped both arms around him, tugging him close so that Dipper was practically in his lap. “I know she can come off as rude and abrasive and she pretends not to care but secretly wants to get all up in everyone’s business, but… it’s her weird way of caring, I guess. She’s kinda the big sister I never had? I don’t know. She means well. I think.”

“You think? That’s comforting.” Dipper shifted to straddle him, twisting his cap to the side so he could rest their brows together. “So the juvie thing’s not scaring you off?”

“Nah. You had good reasons, and it’s not like you were dealing drugs or- or killed anyone or anything.” Wirt stroked along his sides, taking a moment before meeting his gaze. “What about the therapy thing? That… that’s not a big deal for you or anything, is it?”

“I do want to know... why, I guess. But that’s just me wanting to know everything I can about you. You needing therapy’s not a problem, though.” He nibbled lightly on Wirt’s lower lip. “Did it help you?”

Wirt turned Dipper’s nibbling into a soft kiss, eyes slipping closed while he focused on the feel of him in his lap, pressed close and warm. Constant. While it wasn’t something he tried to hide, it did take him a minute to put himself back in that mindset, to remind himself of what he’d gone through. He nodded a little, their foreheads rubbing together, and he opened his eyes to find Dipper’s.

“Yeah. Yeah, it helped some. It got me to a place where I could really see what kind of changes I needed to make myself to be… better.” He leaned back against the couch cushions, glancing over his shoulder. “How long do you think they’re giving us? I can tell you about it now, if you want. Since you want to know everything, and I don’t want to deprive you of the things you want.” His lips quirked up in a teasing sort of smile as he squeezed him.

“I don’t know how long Beatrice’ll wait, but Mabel’ll give us til she’s bored.” Dipper stroked the curve of his cheek, returning the smile. “It can wait until we’re alone later. I don’t want to keep you from spending time with her when you haven’t seen her since August.”

“Yeah, well, that’s her fault. She comes and goes as she pleases.” But he had missed her. As insufferable as it was to be around her sometimes, she was still his closest friend. The girl who’d noticed him in the waiting room of their therapist’s office, all nerves and anxiety, and took it upon herself to give the new kid some inside information regarding their shrink and her practices. The girl who’d taken him under her wing and didn’t hesitate to call him out when he overreacted or sat with him through it when he wasn’t. Yeah, he’d missed her. “Thanks though. I should probably find out how long she plans on being in town for.”

“Just the weekend. I’m passing through on the way to my next destination.” Beatrice swept back into the room, she and Mabel obviously having listened in to some of their conversation. At least enough of it to know it was safe to come back out. She set down two cans in front of Dipper and Wirt on the coffee table. “I’ll be back in the area in three weeks or so. Between Christmas and New Year’s and I definitely want to do something with you to ring in the new year. We’ll go out or something. Dipper and Mabel can come, too. Revenge for going clubbing without me last night.”

“If you actually called before showing up on my doorstep, then maybe we could’ve arranged for you to join us,” Wirt pointed out, zero sympathy for his friend.

She shrugged. “I have to keep you on your toes somehow. Always expect the unexpected and all that.”

Dipper debated with himself for a moment before deciding not to leave his boyfriend’s lap. He turned and pressed back against him, settling between his legs. “Mabel and I were planning on heading up to New York, but we can adjust for whatever.”

“Or we can take you guys to the city with us! Oh my gosh, the amount of clubs open for New Years there is amazing. It’d be so much fun.”

“If you guys don’t mind us tagging along. I’ve been trying to get Wirt into New York for years.” Beatrice perched on the arm of Wirt’s couch. “New Years is the perfect excuse. You can’t say no to that, Wirt.”

“I’ll think about it,” he replied, arms looping around Dipper’s middle as he dropped his chin to his shoulder.

“I’d like it if you did.” Dipper laid his hands on his arms, drawing little patterns into his skin as a light flush tinted his cheeks. “Kissing you in Times Square while the ball drops, ringing in the new year? I’d really like that.”

Humming softly, Wirt held him a little tighter as he tilted his head down to press his lips to his shoulder, his own blush creeping into his face as he considered the idea. “Well… can’t really say no to that. I’d… I’d really like that, too.”

With an arched eyebrow, Beatrice stared at the two of them for a beat. “Alright. Well, now I know how to get Wirt to do something I want without fighting him. I’ll just go to Dipper first and get him to ask.”

“I'll only be using these powers for good,” Dipper said, turning his head to brush a kiss to his temple.

“How noble of you.” Wirt’s lips curved into a soft smile.

“I don’t know. I bet I could persuade you to join the dark side for one or two of my suggestions. I won’t be deterred so easily.”

“Knowing Dipper, you're probably right.”

Rolling his eyes, Dipper hid his smile in Wirt's hair. “Maybe, but he can be pretty stubborn.”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ll take what Dipper wants into consideration, but it’s not like I’ll do something _just_ because he wants it.” Wirt gave him a squeeze around his middle nonetheless, content to keep him close.

“Some boyfriend you are,” Beatrice snorted.

“I don’t think I can win here,” he sighed and turned his head to nuzzle Dipper. “Maybe if we ignore them, they’ll stop talking.”

“I’m not so sure if that’ll work.”

“It won’t,” Mabel confirmed. “We’ll just have to talk more.”

“Neither of us can win here, babe.”

“Oh my god, you let him call you babe?” Beatrice was full-out grinning like it was the best thing she’d heard all day.

“Only because he lets me call him kitten. Right, kitten?”

“You’re joking, right? You’re not actually serious about babe and kitten being a thing, are you?”

“Completely serious. He’s my kitten.” Wirt snuggled him a little extra, unable to keep from smiling as he pressed his lips to his blushing boyfriend’s neck. “And I’m his babe.”

With a shake of her head, Beatrice moved to sit back in her chair and settle in with her soda. “Okay, no. You are a disaster with petnames. How did this even happen?”

“It was Dipper’s fault.”

****

\----

****

After stories were exchanged and catch-up effectively covered between Wirt and Beatrice, she and Mabel happily invited themselves to witness one of the infamous cooking lessons, as well as partake in actually eating the dinner they made. They relocated to Dipper’s apartment to make use of the groceries they’d spent the day stocking up on and the girls alternated between chatting and lounging in the living room to flitting about the boys and taking pictures to document the teacher-student relationship and preserve it for what Mabel called “scrapbookortunities.” Wirt had to acknowledge that she was definitely worse than his mom when it came to capturing memories on film. Beatrice only helped because she took great joy in getting Wirt flustered and annoyed.

“As the teacher, I’m declaring that the kitchen is off-limits to anyone not actively participating in cooking dinner,” he eventually settled on, shooing the two of them out of Dipper’s kitchen. “My student needs to concentrate. So get out.”

Dipper laughed, but didn’t protest their dismissal. The distraction they’d caused had caused him to lose track of what he was doing more than once, so it was probably for the best. The first cooking lesson in his kitchen really didn’t need to result in a fire. “Now you see why taking pictures didn’t bother me at Thanksgiving.”

“Seriously. All our hard work would’ve been for naught if we ended up with a fire on our hands, and for once it wouldn’t be entirely your fault.”

He opened his mouth to make a joke about just moving in with Wirt if he was kicked out, but it stuck in his throat. Surprised, he turned to the stove to stir the pot of rice. He couldn't joke when it was honestly appealing. Heart skipping, he pushed the thought aside and grinned over his shoulder. “Thanks for saving me and dinner. I'm starving.”

“Well…” Wirt’s smile softened as he sidled up behind Dipper with the excuse of watching the rice over his shoulder, though his arms banded around his waist while he pressed close and placed a kiss to the nape of his neck. “I do like having you around. I’ve gotten spoiled with you just across the hall.” With a nuzzle, he hid his smile against his hat. “Also, you’re really only supposed to fluff rice with a fork, but I’ll only mark you down a little for that.”

Dipper leaned into him. “Okay, but why would you put a metal fork into a pot?”

Wirt laughed, giving him a squeeze. “You don’t leave it in there. Metal things can get a little hot without causing disasters, you know. And you use a fork so the rice doesn’t clump together in a big mushy mess.”

“Since I’m still skeptical, mushy clumped rice it is.” Dipper turned, deeming the rice stirred enough, to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and enjoy the way he looked as he laughed. His heart swelled, lips curving. “You’re so beautiful.”

His cheeks flushed lightly, though his smile didn’t fade. “Trying to suck up to the teacher to make up for the mushy rice?” he teased, swaying with him from side to side.

“I'm shocked that you would insinuate something like that. My character is flawless. I'm just stating facts about the man I'm in love with.” Dipper peppered light kisses along his jaw. “The chance of scoring brownie points since he also happens to be my teacher is a fringe benefit.”

“Fair enough,” Wirt hummed, tipping his head to the side to encourage the kisses before claiming his lips for a soft one of his own. “Just be careful not to let the food burn while you’re busy stating these facts of yours and making me feel incredibly lucky to have a man like you be in love with me.”

“You’re the only reason it hasn’t yet, so if food actually gets to the table it’ll be thanks to you.” Dipper blinked. “Holy crap. I’ll actually get to use my table.”

Wirt placed another laughing kiss to the corner of his mouth before releasing him to check on the chicken simmering in the pan next to the rice. “In what will hopefully be the first of many dinners.”

With Wirt, Dipper hoped. His TV trays, when he even bothered to pull one out, had seen more food than the round table Mabel had selected. More often than not, it was a catch-all for papers. Heck, he’d written at the table more than he’d eaten at it.

Dipper watched him flip chicken over, cutting into one piece to see if it was still pink inside, while a realization worked its way through him. His kitchen was being used. More, his kitchen was being used properly. Groceries filled his pantry, his refrigerator, and was now actually being turned into a meal. The spicy scent of the tacos they’d settled on, perfect since there were four of them, filled the air and he’d helped put it together.

He was in his kitchen, using it properly, and was still in his apartment because of this man. No, he wouldn’t have been on the streets had his grunkle been forced to kick him out, but he would’ve felt homeless. This building had been the first place he’d felt at home in, enough for him to be so reckless as to spray paint a competitor if only because they were jerks to his great-uncle. It was the first place he’d wanted to go when he’d finally realized that the sorrow he’d spent months carrying around through travels with his sister had been homesickness.

This incredibly sweet man had made such a simple, harmless offer that had ensured that he wouldn’t have to feel homesick ever again. And with it had come another sort of home, this one far different and far more important than walls and a roof. It was the man himself. Wirt was simply just as much home as the complex.

Dipper turned the rice off while Wirt shredded the cooked pieces and bumped their hips together. “Hey.”

“Mm?” Wirt lifted his gaze from the chicken, curiosity filling it.

He smiled, lifting a hand to cup Wirt’s cheek. No haze of arousal, no playfulness. Simple honesty shone, rolling off his tongue. “I love you.”

Heart skipping a beat, the words still so new and important, Wirt turned his head to press his lips to his palm. “And I love you,” he murmured.

Dipper’s smile brightened, hand lifting higher to thread through his hair to make the strands stick up in odd places. He laughed when Wirt scrunched his nose, both in displeasure and because he knew Dipper liked it. Yes, this was home. Wherever this man went, he wanted to follow.

“So now what? Cutting up tomatoes?”

****

\----

****

It was late before Wirt and Dipper were able to tumble into bed, the moonlight filtering through the open blinds their lightsource. They hadn’t set fire to the apartment, and they’d eaten at Dipper’s table, sharing stories as well as food. He’d finally been able to get his twin back for her rather constant embarrassment, torturing her by sharing tales of her awful taste in men.

Beatrice, he’d noted, didn’t tend to share much about herself, which he could sympathize with, and Wirt had been cajoled into sharing one or two. It was when Dipper had bumped their shoulders together and asked about Greg that the stories really started from his end.

A good time that had ended with sundaes because, even though Wirt claimed to be full, Dipper hadn’t missed the way he’d opened the freezer more than once while putting leftovers away, gaze on the ice cream they’d bought since Wirt had done much the same thing while in the grocery store.

Dipper adored his sweet tooth and the lengths he went to in order to hide it. He failed miserably at it, of course, the way his lips would form just the slightest of pouts when he denied himself just one of his many tells. Dipper hadn’t been able to resist pressing a nippy kiss to that pout before ignoring half-hearted protests against grabbing two cartons.

He pressed a nippy kiss to his lips now, though this pout had more to do with being away from Beatrice rather than from a lack of dessert. Nevermind that she was just across the hall with his ridiculous sister since they’d decided to stake a claim on Wirt’s apartment while he slept in Dipper’s bed.

“Don’t ever tell her I said this, but Mabel’s right. You really are a sweetheart. It’s been twenty minutes and Beatrice’s right across the hall, but you miss her, don’t you?”

“Never let her know that; she won’t let me hear the end of it,” Wirt huffed, giving up the pout to return some of Dipper’s kisses. “It’s dumb, I know. It’s not like I won’t see her tomorrow and listen to her complain about the obscene amount of waffles I have in the freezer for when I’m too lazy to make them. She can’t stand waffles. She claims they make her sick, but she can eat pancakes and not have a problem so I think she’s lying and just doesn’t like them and you probably don’t care about this, I don’t know why I’m rambling on about it.”

“Because you know I’m listening even though it’s dumb.” Grinning, Dipper plucked at the fabric of one of his own t-shirts, amused that his boyfriend was wearing it out of sheer stubbornness because neither girl had let him into his place to get pajamas. Their teasing claims that he wouldn’t wear them long anyway had made the tips of his ears go red, and Dipper had needed to disguise his laugh as a cough that had fooled no one.

“And I do care. Her not liking waffles is a huge strike against her.”

Eyebrow lifting, Wirt caught Dipper’s wrist to keep him from toying with the shirt, knowing just why he was doing it. His shirt was staying on for as long as he could manage it. Plus, there was something comforting and cozy about wearing Dipper’s shirt, the softness of the worn fabric and the scent of the detergent he used mixed with his own subtle scent intimate in its own way.

“It really is. Just don’t be surprised if she’s knocking on the door to complain about it tomorrow morning.” Wirt’s thumb stroked along the inside of his wrist as he snuggled closer. “It’s funny. I try to forget how much I miss her when she’s not around, but then she comes back and just unravels all the work I put into it just by walking into a room.”

Dipper propped an elbow onto his pillow, cheek resting in his free hand as he gazed at his boyfriend. His leg hooked over one of Wirt’s as they each shifted closer. “I get that. I mean, I never had a friend I was that close to, but I feel like that with Mabel.”

“Mm,” he hummed, nodding a little as he took to tracing the lines of Dipper’s palm. “Greg’s the only other person I really feel that with, too, and I probably wouldn’t feel that way about Beatrice if we hadn’t been there for each other when we needed it. Outside of my therapist, she was the only person I could really talk to about what happened.”

Dipper was quiet a moment, uncertain of the boundaries here. He shifted, leaving his hand in his lover’s as he adjusted to rest his chin atop Wirt’s head. “Can I... Can I just ask what happened, or...?”

“Yeah, you can. It’s been a while now. Little over ten years so it’s not… it’s not so bad to think about anymore. And I did say I’d tell you.” Wirt squeezed his hand, grateful to have the connection to him.

“When I was fifteen, I nearly got Greg and I killed. Rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, the whole nine yards. I wasn’t very good at taking care of him back then. I didn’t really want him around at all, actually, so it was sort of a wake up call - literally - when I woke up and he was worried about me. Like, it made sense for someone who loved their brother, but I’d never really done anything to deserve it. The last thing I’d said to him was something about how he was always ruining my life and it… it just really bothered me, that that could’ve really been the last thing I’d said to him. It wasn’t nice and it wasn’t true in the slightest. He was only six.”

Dipper laced their fingers, picturing the hyperactive teenager, the way he and Wirt interacted. “How? I mean... Was there an accident?”

“Sort of. We ended up falling into one of the lakes. Hit our heads on the way down so we were unconscious when we hit the water. Someone saw us so they called for help; otherwise, I’m pretty sure we would’ve drowned. I remember small pieces of it, but I couldn’t move. Everything was sort of disorienting and it didn’t help that the water was nearly freezing.” Wirt shifted against him, tucking his head against the crook of his neck as shamefulness washed over him. What Dipper had done to end up in juvie had been for his family’s sake. Wirt had more or less forsaken his.

“I say it was sort of an accident because we were trying to get out of the way of a train. Its tracks were at the top of this hill and the lake was at the bottom, so we were walking along the tracks when it came around the corner. There was a split second where I could’ve pushed Greg to safety. I’ve played it over in my head enough times that I know I could’ve. But I left him to fend for himself. I jumped and he followed me because I’m his big brother. Obviously I knew what I was doing. And we wound up nearly drowning.”

Dipper’s grip tightened, his other arm working its way beneath him to drag him closer. “I noticed a hitch in your lifeline, but...” Getting hit by a train and nearly drowning. He brushed a kiss to the top of his head, so grateful neither machine nor lake had taken this man from him so early. “You can’t blame yourself for panicking, for jumping out of the way. And at least he did follow you. How did you get out of the water?”

“Someone pulled us out. The EMTs, I think.” Feeling Dipper’s arm curl around gave him more reassurance than he realized he’d needed. “But yeah… near-death experience resulted in a lot of nightmares and anxiety on top of what I’d already been dealing with, so my mom thought therapy was probably a good idea. Especially since I felt so guilty afterwards. I mean, I still do, but at least we have the years where our relationship has been good. It helps to think about that, all the good memories we’ve made and the positive impact I’ve made on his life.”

“I can tell you love him. I could tell that the minute I walked into your kitchen and saw his pictures all over your fridge. Not to mention Thanksgiving.” Dipper nuzzled him gently. “You’re a good brother. Whatever you were like before, you’re a good one.”

“I try. That alone makes a difference. I try and I care how he feels about me. I care about him. I mean, things aren’t perfect and we do fight just like any other set of siblings would, but… yeah, I love him. I think I always have, but it took nearly losing him or letting him lose me to really see how important it was to show it. You know?” Wirt wriggled a bit, moving his head back so he could meet Dipper’s gaze, brushing their noses together.

“Yeah.” He let their lips rest together, brief and light. “What was in the way before?”

Wirt’s mouth twisted into a pensive frown. “Resentment mostly. Towards my parents and step-dad and just… the unfairness of the situation in general. See, I was sort of like Greg with my dad. I thought I really loved him and wanted his approval in everything, but he couldn’t care at all about me. So that kinda messed me up for a bit. When it came to understanding love and accepting it, I guess.” He squeezed Dipper’s hand, expression softening as he looked at him. “It really says a lot about you, that I’m able to feel so strongly for you and accept that you feel the same for me, too. It really blows me away.”

How could anyone make the mistake of not caring about Wirt? Dipper pressed their lips together again, this one firmer and lingering. “I just got really lucky, that’s all. This adorable man in mismatched slippers sleepily laughing at me because I can’t cook - how could I not fall for that?”

That coaxed a small laugh from him before reciprocating with a kiss of his own. “No idea. Guess I’m just lucky that you had no choice but to fall for me. Or maybe it was all part of my grand master plan to get you to talk to me.”

“You just wanted more gossip for your second period,” he accused, resting their brows together.

“Oh yeah. That’s all that this is,” Wirt teased, releasing his hand to lightly caress his side with his own and paused at his hip to give it a squeeze. “It’s all entertainment for second period. Their own little, interactive soap opera so I don’t actually have to teach them anything.”

“Except important vocabulary like ‘undulate.’” Dipper nudged him onto his back so he could sprawl more completely atop him, burying his face into his neck for a light nip that almost immediately melted into gentle kisses along the column.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against his skin. “I’m so sorry that your dad made you feel insecure about love and how it works. I’m sorry that it took nearly dying for you to start turning things around. But I’m glad you had someone like Beatrice there with you, and that you were strong enough to go to therapy. I’m glad you were strong enough to take therapy and use it to become better than what you were, to become someone I can love with everything I’ve got. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”

Wirt’s breath hitched, arms winding around his lover to cling to him and freely soak up the love he spoke of. While it wasn’t quite a weight lifted from his chest, it did feel good to have shared that piece of his past with him. To let him in and see some of what he wasn’t proud of, to appreciate what he was now.

“It’s worth a lot,” he assured him, pressing his own kiss to his hair. “I love you, Dipper. More than I ever thought I could love someone. Thank you.”

“I love you too. I love you in all the ways I’ve always wanted to love someone and never could. You make me... whole.”

“You too.” Wirt hugged him tighter, his thigh slipping between Dipper’s as they pressed close in his bed. “You make me happy and like it’s okay for me to just… be me. Like that’s all you need from me.”

Genuinely puzzled, Dipper could only stare at him for a moment. “Why would I want anything else? You’re all I want, whether you’re feeling shy and anxious or bold and sassy. There’s a lot in you, Wirt. I love all of it.”

For a moment he could only gaze back at him, heart in his eyes as his lips quirked up from his honest confusion. One arm slipped from him so he could cup his chin and he drew him into a deep, slow kiss, letting everything he felt for him simmer at a low heat. He showed a little of his bold, sassy nature by nipping at his lower lip as the kiss ended.

“You don’t know how much that means to me, so I can only hope to give some of that back when I say you’re all I want, too. Your smiles and laughter, your laziness and distractibility, your way with words, your passion, everything.” Wirt punctuated each with a lighter kiss, his fingers trailing up to sink into the curls at the back of his head. “I love you.”

Dipper wriggled against his boyfriend, a thrill shooting through him even while embarrassment chased it. Disbelief tried to follow, but he pushed that aside. He could put away his insecurities, set aside the secrets he still had left, and just trust in the words. Trust in the love he could see in dark eyes, taste on warm lips. “It means a lot, babe. It means a whole lot.”

Wirt stroked his hair, the arm around his waist tightening as he kissed him again, then rolled them over so he was hovering over his lover, surrounding him, delighting in the flush of his cheeks. “Good to know, kitten,” he murmured, ready to spend the night basking in him. “Good to know.”

The flush deepened, lips curving as he pet the shirt his boyfriend wore. His fingers skimmed down his sides, dipping beneath fabric to find warm skin beneath and to begin slowly inching it up. He wanted to show him some of that love, to show him the appreciation for his strengths. His boyfriend was incredible for having recognized his faults and for continuing to work on them even while out of therapy. He shifted his expression into something more playfully innocent, lips curving as he played with the shirt. “So...”

“Hey.” Wirt lifted up some to keep his hands from completely divesting him of his shirt, despite the teasing touch he couldn’t help but crave more of. “Nope. Mm-mm. I’m wearing this shirt all night if I can. I have a point to prove and I’m proving it. So you can keep your ‘so...’” He leaned down to rub their noses together.

“You’re going to deprive me after I was nice enough to let you steal a shirt out of my closet?” Dipper pouted, stroking his chest. “That’s mean.”

“Mm, I didn’t say I’d deprive you necessarily.” Wirt lapped at his lower lip, then pressed a kiss to the pout, his hips lowering to rock against him through their boxers. “Though let’s face it, I am pretty mean.”

His breath caught, Dipper lifting to rub against him. “Oh, yeah, you’re just... the worst.”

“But since you were so nice, maybe I’ll be a little nice back,” he purred against his ear, pausing to nibble the lobe before trailing a series of nippy kisses along his neck. “Since it is your shirt, I’ll let you decide if I get to keep it on while I work on making you undulate.”

“Oh.” A shiver went down his spine, fingers briefly bunching in the fabric before he wound his arms around Wirt and toyed with the hem. Each little scrape of teeth had warmth flooding him. “Well, you know I want it off. But it might be interesting to see if you can distract me enough to keep it.” His own teeth dragged along his lower lip, the shirt being inched up. “If you think you can.”

Wirt reached down to catch one of his wrists again while his other hand held fast to his hip. “That a challenge?” he hummed, dragging his tongue over a stretch of skin along his collarbone before biting down, suckling greedily to mark him.

“Ma- _ay_ -be.” Dipper bit back the moan that wanted to spill out, but only just. His free hand faltered on the shirt, his tugs not moving it up or down.

Pleased by the hitch in his breath, Wirt muffled his own moan into his neck, arousal spiking at how his mouth alone could get Dipper to lose his focus. Once satisfied with the purpling bruise, Wirt lifted his head to smirk at him. “I’m starting to think I can.” His fingers eased the waistband of his boxers down, thumb stroking light circles into the skin exposed to him. “What do you think?”

“Nah.” Anticipation joined with lust, coursing through him, but Dipper stubbornly shook his head and dragged the shirt up his back. “I may be easily distracted normally, but I do like every inch of you against me.”

“That so?” Wirt shifted his weight as he completely straddled Dipper, the hand on his hip leaving to grab his other wrist, pinning both to the bed. His hips started rocking again, driving their clothed lengths together, the rolling motion as relentless as it was slow. “Every inch?”

Dipper’s teeth sank into his lower lip hard, struggling against his normal inclination to vocalize his appreciation. His hips betrayed him, though, arching upwards to encourage the attentions his steadily hardening arousal was receiving. “Y-yeah.”

Shivering as a wave of pleasure swept over him, the rutting easy to lose himself to, Wirt’s fingers tightened around his wrists. Dipper’s receptive little arcs only making it easier to continue grinding against him, his shaft hardening in response. Wirt leaned down, nipping at his lover’s lips as he fought to make his pace even more torturous. “I don’t know if I believe you,” he panted, stealing a kiss when Dipper’s teeth relinquished their bite. “Doesn’t sound like you like every inch.”

He whimpered, trying to writhe beneath him to make him move faster. “If you take off the shirt, you can...” The slow pace was torture, his body on fire as he strained for more friction. “Can hear me better.”

“I don’t think I need to resort to that just yet.” His pulse quickened as Dipper squirmed and strained. To reward him, Wirt rocked a little harder, a little faster, and groaned his name. He lifted his hands to switch his grip, the fingers of one curling around both wrists so the other could snake between them and tug his boxers down, freeing Dipper’s arousal.

With a gasp, he bucked his hips. His cock bobbed between them, its throbbing an echo of Dipper’s pounding heart.  His attempt to free his wrists was half-hearted. “I want- I want to feel you.”

“I want to feel you, too.” His hips stuttered to a halt as he cupped his length, kneading it gently to feel the way it pulsed and twitched. Wirt pressed his lips to his jawline, peppering his face with light kisses as he pumped him. “You always feel so good.”

The moan broke through Dipper’s defenses, his legs spreading. Knees bending, Wirt fit snugly between them as he planted his feet and rocked up. Those long fingers knew just where to touch, deftly finding and exploiting the sensitive spots along his shaft. It took a concentrated effort to remember the shirt, and he broke a hand free to tug it up. “I’ll be so good for you. Just take it off. Wanna feel your skin against mine, hot from mine.”

It was tempting and Wirt debated it for a split second. It would be good, so good to feel him everywhere, skin on skin, both flushed and wanting. Wirt released his grip on him, leaning back to let his fingers toy with the hem of Dipper’s shirt. He lifted it up, just enough to show a sliver of skin, then hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and shucked those off instead.

“You’re not getting this shirt off me that easily.” He settled between Dipper’s legs, dropping a kiss to his chest while his hands caressed the insides of his thighs. “And I think you’ll still be good for me.”

“What...” He shook his head, swallowing a whine as his hands delved beneath the shirt to skim up his spine, bunching the fabric. “What makes you think that?”

“Because I’m thinking I want to be inside you. Just me, feeling only you. I can’t imagine that being anything but good for both of us.” His kisses trailed down over his abdomen, worshipping the expanse of skin offered to him while keeping his just under wraps.

Dipper’s entire body seemed to throb at that thought, nails digging into Wirt’s skin. “Oh my god,” he breathed, writhing beneath him. “That’s- I think I can be good for that, for you. Just you.” His head tilted forward to watch, teeth sinking into his lip again while his hands delved into his hair, abandoning his goal as the kisses sent little shockwaves through his system.

Wirt nuzzled his belly, gaze dark and pleased as it flicked up to meet Dipper’s. He stroked his thighs again, savoring the way they quivered under his touch as he placed a firm, damp kiss at the crease right where his hip joined his leg. It wasn’t something he did often, past partners too aggressive and the act more of a turn-off than anything, but he surprised himself with how much he wanted to when faced with Dipper’s arousal, and not surprised at all by how much he trusted him. He dragged his tongue along his cock from base to tip, struck instantly by the heady scent and taste. His own length ached to be touched, encased in a similar heat while his lips wrapped around the tip and gave an experimental suckle.

Resisting the urge to arch up and claim more of the wet heat offered, Dipper let out a keening noise and the sensation sang from his cockhead to his mind, leaving him dazed and dizzy. And eager, so very eager for what his boyfriend had in store. “Wirt,” he whimpered. “Please, babe.”

“Okay, kitten.” He pressed a kiss just over the slit, then sat up to reach for the beside table. “Don’t worry, you’re going to feel so good. I’ll make sure of that.”

When he had the lube in one hand, he took one of the pillows from the head of the bed to set at the small of Dipper’s back. Wirt encouraged his legs to stay spread open, eager and waiting for him, sending spirals of heat coursing through his veins as he slicked up his fingers. One circled his entrance, feather-light while he watched him tremble for it, and Wirt lapped at his length, tracing the underside with his tongue as he eased his index finger inside him.

Dipper's moan was low, drenched in need as he struggled to relax around the intrusion. The warmth of Wirt's tongue sent more through him, overwhelming. This had rarely happened for him in the past. Once they knew he enjoyed giving them, they saw no reason to reciprocate. He hadn't expected anything different with Wirt. He hadn't expected a pillow when he'd never been given one. Even as his body was battered with sensation, his heart stirred. “I love you. Love you so much, Wirt.”

“I love you too, Dipper. More than anything.” His gaze was fixed on him, drinking in the way he reacted to him, the way his flush spread from his cheeks and down his neck and the way his body opened for him, bit by bit. The tight heat surrounding him was an intoxicating promise of what was to come, and he gave back what he could by stretching his lips around the head of Dipper’s cock, sinking down on it as he worked a second finger inside to stretch and seek the places that would make him lose his mind.

Encouraging sounds poured out, Dipper not bothering to fight a single one as his mind slipped away and their game with it. His nails scratched his scalp lightly, gaze caught by the way his lover’s lips stretched around him. “Wirt, god, Wirt, you’re so pretty. You’re so beautiful. Need you, love you.”

Abruptly, his head fell back on an outcry and it was all he could do not to arch his hips and thrust. Instead, he bucked his hips downwards, the stars exploding behind his eyes blinding as he only sank deeper onto the fingers that had caused the reaction.  His hands fumbled, one falling from his hair to grip the sheets.

Pleased by the reaction, Wirt twisted his fingers into that spot again, prolonging the high sensation for his lover as he writhed and clenched around him. Every single sound Dipper made had his arousal throbbing, returning each one with a moan of his own around his length as his tongue rubbed against heated flesh and teased the slit. He slid his fingers from him as he hollowed out his cheeks on a long suck, fumbling to slick up his shaft with lube, moaning as the previously untouched skin was suddenly being stroked, the promise of being encased in Dipper’s heat so much closer now. His hips bucked into his own hand, desperate for Dipper’s touch, the feel of him. He whimpered around him, gaze seeking his lover’s hazy, glazed over eyes. He needed him, too. He needed him so much.

“Please. Please, babe, come on.” The sounds vibrated through him, Dipper releasing his own whimpers. He was achingly hard, embarrassingly close. Desperate to be filled, taken, owned, he tugged at Wirt's hair. “Love me.”

Eyes closing at the tug, Wirt shuddered and let his length slip from his lips with a wet pop. “I love you. Love you, Dipper.” He slid up his body, positioning himself at his entrance as his forehead lowered to rub against his boyfriend’s, needing the contact while he sank into him and felt only him. “Oh my god.”

His legs lifted, banding around his waist as he adjusted to the unfamiliar feeling. The shirt was still on, but he hardly noticed it, fingers catching in the material as he clutched at his back. It was so different to only have his lover filling him, the intimate connection made more so. “Wirt,” he breathed, holding him close and tight just to absorb the sensations coursing through him. “You feel so...” He didn’t have the words, mind emptied of thought and replaced by a haze of pleasure. “I love you.”

“Dipper,” he panted, aching to bury himself in him and let him feel every inch of him inside. “You’re so good, so perfect. Perfect for me.”

Wirt tucked his face against his neck, mouthing praises and damp kisses to it as he started to rock, shallow little thrusts at first, to see how he could take him, how he’d blossom for him, then gradually gained momentum, driving into him harder, faster. The shirt shifted with Dipper’s grip and their movements, coaxing a shaky moan from him as more of their skin brushed, just as hot as he’d promised, longed for. His hands stayed away from his length, no matter how much it begged to be touched, to make their joining last. They gripped his hips instead, encouraging him to buck up in response to each thrust.

The way his cock bobbed between them, brushing against Wirt’s belly, was a maddening tease. He writhed against him, babbling wrecked encouragements. The hands at his waist helped guide him into a rhythm, heels digging into his back as he dragged himself higher, offering himself entirely.

Dipper gripped his hair to pull him into a messy kiss, eyes heavy lidded and dark with arousal. “Harder,” he pleaded. “Harder, use me. Want to make you feel so good.” He clenched around him, body aflame, eager to drag his lover to the same mindless depths.

“Oh- oh my god, Dipper. Harder, yeah, yes…” His grip around him everywhere was so tight, so needy and desperate. “Always make me feel good. Really, really good, kitten.” Pleasure soaked sounds spilled from him as his hips bucked into him hard and fast. Wirt lapped at his mouth, eager in claiming his lips with his own as the sensations heightened. He took what Dipper was offering him, mind crumbling as his body drew him in further, deeper, completely connected. The fingers at his hips dug in, his hold on him bruising as he drove into him again and again until he hit that sweet spot just right.

Dipper cried out, eyes going wide and blind as pleasure speared him. “Wirt! Wirt, god, I can’t-” Another well-aimed thrust had his words shifting to mindless mewls as he tossed his head back. The firm grip was the only thing that kept his hips moving, body beyond his control as he came undone, untouched length spilling his release between them.

With the way he clenched around him and how he looked as he reached his peak, Wirt followed him over the edge after only a few more thrusts, burying deep as he came and let his lover’s quivering muscles milk his orgasm from him, filling him. “ _Dipper_ …!” His name the only coherent sound he could make while his mind was wiped, gasping helplessly as he slumped atop him. His tight hold eased into soothing strokes along as his sides, petting all that he could reach of him. “Oh god, Dipper, I love you.”

He couldn’t respond right away, still trying to catch his breath as he trembled under his lover. He felt more full than he ever had before, soft sounds rippling when he squirmed in a useless effort to get closer. The bruises Wirt had squeezed into his hips ached like need. “Love you too,” he murmured, fingers slowly uncurling from the shirt to stroke his back. The hand in his hair stayed, keeping him close. “Oh my god, do I love you.”

Wirt refrained from wiggling against him, sighing contentedly as he felt his hands on him. “Mm… you were right. It does feel really, really nice and you’re really, really warm.” He pressed his lips to the corner of his mouth. “How are you feeling? Okay?”

His lips curved, smile blissful. He felt well-loved, needed. “Mmhm. Very, very okay.”

Another kiss graced his smile, then Wirt rubbed their noses together. “Good. Not too disappointed that I very thoroughly distracted you?” he teased, a soft chuckle slipping out as he scrunched his nose for him.

“I think, just this once, you can win without me being disappointed.” Dipper’s hand left his hair to stroke down his cheek, lips brushing the cute wrinkle of his nose. “But this shirt’s officially yours. I’ll never be able to wear it again.”

Wirt grinned as he nuzzled his palm. “Oh? Why not?”

He rocked his hips, a delicious punishment for them both. “Guess.”

“Ah-” Wirt’s breath caught on a gasp and he clung tightly to his boyfriend as the aftershocks sizzled against over-sensitized nerves. “Uh… mm… because you don’t have any- any self-control?”

“Well... uh... oh.” It was different, feeling him moving inside with nothing between them. Different in incredible ways. “Who needs self-control?”

“Not us, obviously.” Pulse fluttering, Wirt kissed him softly to try and settle himself and Dipper along with him. “Think I’ve grown pretty fond of this shirt anyway. I’ll gladly take it off your hands.”

“Merry early Christmas.” Dipper tugged at the fabric. “Think you can take it off now so I can cuddle you properly without making a mess of it? I think you proved your point.”

“Only if you promise not to tell Beatrice or Mabel.” But Wirt shifted enough so most of his weight was on his knees and lifted his arms to let Dipper pull it off him even before he agreed, just as eager for some proper cuddling.

He bit his lip at the movement, sliding the fabric up and off. It went off the side of the bed with the rest of their clothes, Dipper’s hands exploring the skin he hadn’t been able to access with it in the way. “Telling them what we do in bed isn’t high on my list of things to share, so promise made.” His legs lessened their grip, letting his boyfriend pull out. Loathe as he was to lose the connection, he wanted to pet and wriggle against him without the restriction.

Wirt kissed him soundly, stroking along his chest to lessen the discomfort somewhat. He got up and went to fetch him a warm, damp washcloth, hurriedly cleaning himself before taking it out to Dipper. He settled back between his legs, much slower and gentler in cleaning his lover, laying atop him when he was finished to let him pet and wriggle to his heart’s content. “You’re beautiful, you know that? Absolutely gorgeous.”

His wriggle was from embarrassment, Dipper tucking his flushed face in the crook of Wirt's neck. The discomfort of being stretched and empty and, unfamiliarly, wet was chased away easily by the comfort of being cleaned and held close by his boyfriend. His fingers drew little patterns into his back. “Maybe if you say it enough I'll believe you,” he teased.

“Careful. I’m feeling confident enough in my track record with your challenges to consider taking you up on it,” Wirt continued the lightness of their exchange, easing Dipper back so he could begin peppering his face with playful kisses, one for each compliment. “Beautiful. Gorgeous. Divine. Adorable. Mine. How’re we doing?” He paused to nibble at his jaw.

“Well, I'm definitely yours.” Dipper laughed breathlessly, adoring the attention of both kisses and words. “As pretty as you look saying them, I'm not so sure I believe the rest. Even though it's my handsome, smart, completely sweet boyfriend saying it.”

“Mm.” It was Wirt’s turn to flush and wriggle, distracting himself from the wave of embarrassment by pecking his cheek again. “Sounds like I’ve still got my work cut out for me then. Let’s see… alluring. You’re definitely alluring.” His lips brushed just beneath his eye. “Enticing.” The next kiss crossed the bridge of his nose, the one after falling right on the tip. “Cute. I could keep going. I know a lot of wonderful words that can describe you. I’m sure I’ll find one that you can believe.”

“Well, I like enticing and alluring, so at least you’re picking things that sound good.” He swallowed a giggle, reaching up to toy with his messy hair, and his smile softened. “You’re summer.”

“Summer?” Wirt tilted his head, smile curious and amused. “You’ve only known me for fall and winter, how can you tell?”

“Well, it’s mainly because summer’s my favorite.” Dipper traced the lines of his face with his fingertips, gently committing the sweet expression to memory. “But, really, you’re summer. Or you are to me what summer is to a kid. The anticipation’s always there, thrumming beneath your skin as your gaze lingers on the slowly ticking clock. There are breaks here and there, but the aim is always summer. Every day is one closer to summer, closer to long days that sizzle with heat, warm nights where anything can happen.

“Some of those days you spend running around, climbing trees, making discoveries. Some you spend lounging around just because you can. There’s no pressure, no deadlines. There’s just the warm glow of freedom and the feeling that it’ll last forever.” Dipper brushed their lips together. “You’re summer, Wirt.”

“O-oh.” Some of that heat he was talking about crept into his cheeks, both parts captivated by his words as they rolled off his tongue and flustered by them. “Wow, you… you really feel all that about me?”

“Yeah. Is that...” Insecurity rippled, a hand cupping the back of his neck to toy with the hair there. “Is that okay?”

Wide-eyed, Wirt nodded quickly. “Yeah, no that’s- that’s more than okay, it’s just… talk about hard to believe.” He fidgeted, his hand curling against Dipper’s chest over his heart. “I’ve always kinda seen myself as… I dunno, fall. Especially because of the whole being a teacher thing, but I… I like that you think of me as summer. You’re… you’re like summer, too. Blue skies and bright sun, shedding light on what was once dreary, loneliness a drab color to wear. Then I see you and there’s life again. Warmth and the promise of a new start. A new adventure. Love.” His fingers flexed against his skin, then traced a heart over it as he smiled at him, a lot enamored and a little bit shy. “Summer is all about newness for me, and every experience I’ve had with you has been new. Every feeling. Every desire.”

Dipper wrapped his arms around his lover, heart swelling. “I think you found words I believe.”

A small laugh bubbled out of him and Wirt happily snuggled closer before sinking into a kiss deeper than the light ones he’d been scattering, making sure it conveyed how much he believed Dipper in return as he let it spin out.

Even when it ended, their lips stayed close. In tandem, their fingers began a quiet, reverent exploration of the other. No less potent than outcries and pleas for harder, faster, they came together with fingertips and whispered promises, spilling like kisses brushed gently against skin.

It held the same warmth as a homecoming, Dipper thought at one point. Summer had always meant coming here, coming home, so it was really no surprise that he thought of Wirt with the same fondness he associated with the season.

When their lips met again, bodies quivering with fresh aftershocks, Dipper cupped his cheeks and sank into it. And he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEATRICE! <3 Yay Beatrice! We had to include her :) And more of Wirt's backstory for this au! Which is... well, it's otgw without The Unknown, lol. But still! 
> 
> Also, big shout out to everyone who's dealt with therapy. It's not an easy thing to deal with, and it does take strength to tell a therapist your problems and then to take and apply their advice. All of you who are struggling, keep going strong!!
> 
> Aaaaaaaanyway... after this, we have chapter 9, 10, and the epilogue! We're nearing the end, folks :D  
> Also, all remaining chaps but the epilogue will be nsfw


	9. Chapter 9

As they entered the second week of December, so came the dreaded week before finals. Once Beatrice said her goodbyes that Sunday evening, Wirt distracted himself from the hollow little ache that always came with missing her and buckled down beside Dipper to work on tweaking his exams while his boyfriend alternated between sketching for his own encroaching deadline and working on his fifth book, Mabel flitting in and out with all manner of things to entertain herself with. It was a quiet night, Sunday, and it was also only the beginning of the flood of grading that swept in, filling both apartments.

Research papers from the second and sixth periods poured in on Tuesday, oral reports from first and fifth on Wednesday and Thursday, which left Friday for a much needed review session for all of his classes. Though it meant finals were a day closer, Wirt was relieved by the reprieve. His students were grateful for reviews, their complaining likely to be at a minimum unlike the rest of the week. Though he could understand. Finals really were daunting, and while he knew they wanted to be pleased that their projects for him were done, they still weren’t completely finished.

It didn’t help that many of his honors kids were all but begging to know their grades on their essays - for some it would mean the difference between a C and B and what a difference it was these days - so he was struggling to get through them all before the break, or at least the ones that had asked him personally, only just holding back their tears. Honestly, tangents on poets and his personal life aside, tears were his biggest weakness. They meant he wasn’t doing his job the way he’d set out to, that he was pressuring them too much or not making the learning accessible enough and he was a terrible teacher and ruining kids’ lives by making them stress over their grades to the point of mental breakdowns.

Of course, these insecurities surfaced every time he’d had to give finals so far in his time as a teacher, only to fade as soon the last grade was entered and the students who were most worried wound up being the ones who really didn’t need to worry all that much. The ones who did, he made mental notes to work closely with for the next semester. Wirt knew that he and his students would feel better once school was out for winter, but despite that knowledge he was still a bit scattered and strained at home.

“I’m sorry. I’m really not going to be much fun these next two weeks,” he’d apologized to Dipper at the start of the week, steadily taking over his boyfriend’s kitchen table with his notes and grading template, a bottle of ibuprofen and a mug of tea at the ready. “Cooking lessons might have to be put on hold for now, too, unless you count microwavable dinners as cooking.”

“It's fine, babe.” He'd pulled out a chair for himself, glasses perched on his nose as he sketched. His deadline was the end of the week, so they were both working towards Friday.

It helped Wirt not feel as bad or neglectful knowing Dipper had his own work to tackle, not to mention that when they were both finished they would have the break to spend without work hovering over their heads. It was another reason Wirt wanted to get most of his grading done early. It would be his first winter break as a teacher where he’d have someone to spend it with, and he was very much looking forward to spending what had once seemed like a ridiculous amount of free time with his boyfriend. Not to mention the holidays that surrounded this time of year.  

So it was with a mixture of anticipation and dread that he embarked on the journey through the week, and by the time Friday rolled around he was not only in for a reprieve from grading and complaining as his students hurried to make study guides and vocab flashcards, but for a surprise from his boyfriend as well.

Once again, it was a giddy sense of accomplishment that carried Dipper through the halls of Langtree High. With a busy meeting under his belt and exciting news to share, there was only one person he wanted to share it with. His first thought had been Mabel. She was home now, after all, and he'd always shared things with her first. It had been a surprise to find himself heading towards the high school instead, but changing directions hadn't crossed his mind. Instead, he'd made a quick detour before continuing the trek.

Overly romantic and incredibly cheesy it may have been, but he was very much in love with his boyfriend and the array of colorful blooms in the pale blue vase he carried was his impulsive way to show it.

The bell had rung as he'd pulled into the parking lot, so the halls were deserted as he made his way his way to the portables. Hopefully he wouldn't mind the intrusion.

He knocked twice on the door before pushing it open, peering into his boyfriend's classroom. “Hey, Mr. Palmer, you busy?”

Sitting at his desk, posting a digital copy of the study guide he and second period had devised during the class period, Wirt looked up from his computer, expression immediately brightening. “Never too busy for one of my favorite students,” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he gestured for him to come in. “I thought you had a meeting this morning. Finished already?”

“Yeah. All went well, and I wanted to tell you about it first. And give you these.” He stepped in, deftly locking the door behind him, and carried the vase to him, setting it on his desk. Pink dusted his cheeks, embarrassment rearing its head now that he was actually giving him the flowers.

“Oh.” Wirt’s own blush rose as his gaze fell on the flowers, heart skipping a beat. He couldn’t help but reach out to delicately touch one of the petals, sitting up straighter and leaning forward to catch a hint of the aroma from the colorful bouquet. “They’re beautiful, I- thank you.” He flicked his gaze from the flowers to Dipper’s face, smile soft and tender as he stood to cup his chin and drew him in for a kiss. “Wasn’t expecting to see you so soon or get flowers, so this a pretty fantastic surprise.”

He grinned, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's waist. “Well, I have good news, so you have to know first. The flowers were just... You know. Because I love you. Not too cheesy?”

“You’re asking the guy that swoons over poetry if something is too cheesy?” Wirt laughed, his own arms draping over Dipper’s shoulders. “I love the flowers. I’m all for cheesy, romantic gestures. And I love you, too. Now what’s this good news? You’ve got me tingling with anticipation.”

“It's three parts. First, art's done and it's now someone else's job to pick which'll be used and inked. Second, book might be out in March to coincide with the exciting news that my series is being turned into a film series because, third, guess who picked a screenwriter.”

“Oh my gosh, seriously?” Wirt beamed at him, fingers curling in his jacket as he tugged him closer, spinning him giddily. “Dipper, that’s great! You found somebody you like? Are you going to get to work with them or is it completely out of your hands or-? Sorry.” He cut himself off with a light kiss to his lips. “I’m happy for you, full of questions, but ultimately just happy for you.”

Laughing, Dipper reached up to cup his cheeks and pull him into a delighted kiss. “Her, and yes. That's been my problem - people not willing to work with me. But she's a fan and wants to make sure the films do the books justice. She's already written thirty minutes of screen time, and it's just- It _works_. Oh my god, you have to see it when you've got a chance.”

“Is that legal?” Wirt grinned, letting their noses brush.

“Of course not, but you still have to read it. Like, I know exactly what's going to happen, but I want to find out what's going to happen.” Dipper peppered eager, giddy kisses over his face. The professional composure he'd had to keep through the meeting melted away so he could wriggle happily against Wirt. “I never thought this could happen. I never thought- Oh my god.”

“If anyone deserves it, it’s you,” Wirt replied, unable to help the giggles that bubbled out as a result of Dipper’s infectious enthusiasm, his delight spilling over and into him with each wiggle and kiss. “I don’t doubt that it’s going to be amazing.”

“Hopefully. I mean... I never thought I'd be good enough for something like this. I never thought people would like my writing enough to warrant a movie. A _series_!” Dipper bounced, awed. “I can't believe it. God, Wirt, this is- Oh my god. You'll come with me for the premiere, won't you? It's really far away and everything, but- But I want you there.”

Wirt lifted his hands to frame Dipper’s face, thumbs brushing across his cheeks. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything. You want me there, then that’s where I’ll be.” His lips grazed his in what started as a light kiss that steadily deepened degree by degree.

Dipper moaned softly, sinking into it. Tongue playing languidly over Wirt's, his fingers curled into his sweater. It would be more than a year before the film opened, but he was confident they'd still be together. He was certain that this man would be in his life. His fingers skimmed up to his face, stroking gently. “I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you, too,” Wirt breathed, eyes closing at the light touch, lips still close enough to brush as he spoke. “I love you so much.” His hands skimmed down his sides, settling at his waist with a squeeze. “Your visits here always seem to be coinciding with reasons to celebrate.”

“Mm. I've set a precedent.” He nibbled teasingly on his lower lip, humming. “One day I'll show up just because I miss you, and you'll be disappointed.”

“I don’t think I could ever be disappointed by the man who brings me flowers when he’s the one that deserves them,” Wirt huffed out a laugh. “Just seeing you, for whatever reason, is enough. ‘All days are nights to see till I see thee, and nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.’”

“Well, you don't _not_ deserve flowers. You've been working hard this week, stressing yourself out for your students, and now Shakespeare. That obviously deserves flowers.” Dipper's hands slipped into his hair, mussing the strands. “But I'm sure you can think of something I deserve for apparently being brilliant and talented.”

“Exceptionally brilliant and talented.” Wirt rubbed their noses together. “I can think of a number of things. It could be my turn to take you out to a nice dinner. Or we could stay in, with flowers and candles, free to have my way with you between courses. We have options. Also, I can’t help noticing that you had the foresight to lock the door. Don’t suppose you had something particular in mind when you did that, hm?”

“I don't know what you mean.” His grip tightened, smiling even as he bit his lower lip. He absolutely appreciated the way his mind worked. “Maybe I just didn't want to be interrupted while talking to my boyfriend.”

“Is that all?” Wirt hummed as he ducked his head to press his lips to his neck. “No ulterior motives?”

“No, never. Unless you're suggesting something.” Dipper tilted his head, encouraging his mouth. He reached into his back pocket to press a packet into Wirt's palm. “How fast can you clear your desk?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had a reason to before now.” Wirt grazed his teeth against his skin, then lifted his head to grin at him. “Let’s find out.” His fingers curling around the packet before he slipped out of Dipper’s grasp to do just that.

After tossing his hat to the chair, Dipper pulled off his jacket, shirt following quickly, and stood behind Wirt while he dumped papers and knick-knacks off his desk. “So what exciting things were you doing before I dropped in?” he asked, drowning out the sound of his zipper. He stepped out of his shoes, sliding his jeans down his legs. It was a little bit of a drawback, his boyfriend unable to undress him, but he was looking forward to seeing his face when he had a chance to turn around. Besides, Wirt could take them off later between courses.

“Nothing nearly as exciting as what-” Wirt turned just after carefully setting the vase of flowers and his computer keyboard aside, lips parting as his breath caught, eyes going impossibly wide before roving over his chest and down his legs, steadily darkening. “Oh.”

Biting down on his lip, Wirt fiddled with the hem of his sweater, pulling it off over his head. His hands went to grip his hips, tugging Dipper close as fingertips sought to explore the skin he’d exposed to him. If he hadn’t already been on board, then having his boyfriend nearly stripped bare in the middle of his classroom was certainly enough to inspire the pulse of arousal coursing through him.

“You got naked last time. Figured it was my turn.” He grinned, reaching up to play with the top button of his undershirt. “Actually, you turned around faster than I wanted you to, but... That's completely okay.”

“Well, uh… I could turn around and- and let you finish,” he offered, clearing his throat. “Pretend I didn’t see anything.”

“Wouldn't you rather finish yourself?” Dipper caught his lower lip between his teeth, tugging lightly. His fingers began undoing buttons, steadily working their way down. “Then have your way with your favorite student on your desk?”

“Yeah. That’s definitely what I’d rather do.” Wirt hooked his fingers in the waistband of his boxers and eased them down his thighs to pool on the ground at his feet. “Just want to make sure it… aligns with what you want to do.” His fingers brushed against his length, tracing the base as he flicked his gaze from it to Dipper’s eyes.

“Oh, yeah.” He swallowed, arousal twitching at the contact. Eyes darkening, he rocked his hips forward. “I came prepared for that adventure this time.”

“I can see that.” Wirt turned him, backing him into the desk. He captured his lips in a hungry kiss, tongue and teeth working together to drag them both further into the haze of desire.

Dipper moaned, wriggling against him in an effort to get closer. “I want-” He gasped when Wirt bent him back, his body splaying over the hard surface of the desk. “Oh, god. I want you to- to come in here on Monday, take one look at this desk, and see me. I want you to think of me, taking you nice and deep.” His legs lifted to wrap around his still-clothed waist, rubbing his steadily hardening cock against him.

“Yes,” Wirt groaned, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of him splayed out on his desk, the feel of him through his slacks, eager and wanting. “Oh my god, you’re all I’ll see every time I walk into this room. You’re all I’ll feel.”

Wirt smoothed his hands over his chest, thumbs flicking over his nipples, fingers stroking along his ribs on their way down. He shimmied out of his shirt, tugging it out from the grip of Dipper’s thighs, hastily tossing it aside so he could press against him as he sought his lips. Unfastening his pants, he stepped out of his shoes and shoved those down as well. Skin on skin rubbed together when Dipper rolled his hips now, their lengths grinding against one another with blessed friction.

“And I want you to still feel me on Monday whenever you try to sit, and remember just how nice and deep I was,” he murmured against Dipper’s ear before his lips latched onto the column of his throat.

Dipper cried out at the quick, greedy pace. “I want that. I want you. Need you. Love you, babe. I love you.” Sensations rolled through him, every inch of touched skin trembling. Anticipation slipped seamlessly into a craving, hot and demanding as he lifted his hips higher, ankles sliding up his lover's back to offer himself.

Dipper reached down, fingers wrapping around Wirt's length. He kneaded the sensitive flesh, thumb massaging the tip. His other hand explored the newly freed skin of his chest. Turning his head so his teeth could tease his lover's earlobe, his fingers caught a nipple, rolling the bud between them to stiffen it. “Now,” he breathed. “Now, please, hurry.”

A shudder ran through him, hips stuttering out of rhythm as a gasp escaped him. “Already?” Wirt breathed shakily, trying to keep his tone husky and teasing while he palmed Dipper, fingers curling around him as he pumped with quick flicks of his wrist. “We’ve only just started.”

“Uh-huh. I want-” He broke off, eyes closing for a moment while he absorbed the feel of his hands. Those long fingers wrapped around him, driving pleasure into him with every motion. “Twice. Gotta have time for twice.” Dipper looked up at him, managing a smug smirk even as his dark eyes fogged over with desire. “If you think you can manage that.”

Throbbing under his gaze, the words sending quiet thrills through him, Wirt dragged him into a deep, searing kiss, moaning as he pressed Dipper flush against the desk. His hand left his length in exchange for the packet he’d been handed earlier and tore it open to coat his fingers in lube. He didn’t waste any time, finger sinking into his tight heat, thrusting as soon as the muscles gave way to him.

“I think I can more than manage that,” he purred, adding a second to stretch him as he tugged on Dipper’s lower lip with his teeth.

His rhythm faltered, both hips and hand becoming disjointed as he was prepared. He whimpered breathlessly as he writhed against the unforgiving surface of the desk and the heat of his lover’s body. “Good. God, Wirt, it’s so good.” Arms wrapping around him, Dipper’s nails bit into his back as he clung tightly. “Come on. Come on, babe, I want- _Wirt_!” Stars exploded behind his eyes, blinding him, and his hips bucked desperately.

Wirt nipped at his jaw, then lifted his head to watch him as he started to fall apart. He was beautiful as he moved for him, clung to him, tightening around him as his wrist twisted and he hit that spot again. “Sounds like you want a lot, kitten. So demanding. I’ll give it to you though. I’ll give you everything.”

Dipper’s response was keening noises, body undulating beneath him. Nothing was held back, noises and movements alike encouraging more, encouraging the everything he was being promised. “Please, please, please,” he whined, a hand working between them to cup his shaft. “Want you so bad. Need it.”

“Okay.” Wirt’s hips jerked at the touch, his own soft sounds slipping out as he removed his fingers. “Okay, okay, kitten. You can have me. I’m yours. All yours.” He used the rest of the lube in the packet to make his length slick, then tugged Dipper close as he aligned himself with his lover’s wriggling body, hands holding his hips. He filled him, gasping at the way he yielded to him as he sank inside. “Dipper…”

Fingers delving into his hair and teeth sinking into his neck, Dipper gave neither of them time to recover. He moaned as he marked him, hips setting a pace that was immediately quick and greedy. Craving the connection, eager to drive his lover over the edge, he took him deep with each hard thrust.

“Dipper!” Wirt cried out, control slipping fast as pleasure swarmed and overtook his senses. His hips bucked, then frantically attempted to meet the pace Dipper had set. Fast and hard and hot. One hand left his hip to brace himself on the desk, the other found his lover’s cock bobbing between them and tugged, stroking along to the rhythm that made them both mindless.

Dipper gasped and whimpered, tongue laving over the mark he’d left. “Wirt, so good, so very- ah, ah, ah...!” Words spiralled into pleasured noises, blunt nails scratching down his back. “Oh, babe,” he groaned, seeking his gaze. His own eyes were inky black, pupils blown wide as they drove each other to a wild completion.

Drowning in the hazy, dark gaze, Wirt could only moan in response, caught up in his lover completely. So pretty, flushed and needy and making the loveliest sounds. His hips and hand worked faster, thumb swirling over his damp tip relentlessly as the heat consumed them both. Wirt could feel it building, pleasure heightening just as quickly as they rocked into one another and he tried to stave it off, to make this frenzy last and keep Dipper writhing and keening while Wirt savored his welcoming heat.

At the same time it was just too good, too easy to lose himself to the friction and slide of their bodies, too much. If the end was going to come fast, then it was also going to come hard. “That’s it, Dipper, that’s- oh god,” he panted, driving in deep. “So good, kitten, you’re so good for me- I- _oh_. Oh my god, Dipper-!”

Dipper wasn’t going to last, didn’t want to try. The hand in his hair fell to the back of his neck, kneading. “Fill me up, babe. Come on. Wanna feel you. Let go, let go, please.” His muscles clenched, though his pace didn’t slow. Clinging to the edge, Dipper pressed their lips together in a messy kiss.

Wirt whimpered into it, sounds he was helpless to stop spilling against his mouth as he kissed back. His hips jerked out of rhythm at the request. Unable to deny him, he let the sensations course through him and let go. He grabbed onto Dipper’s waist with both hands in an attempt to pull him closer as he hit his peak with a shaky cry of his name. He came hard, filling him as Dipper dragged him in and drove him out of his mind with pure ecstasy.

The feel of his lover's release had Dipper moaning, eyes fluttering to half-mast. Hot, wet - the sensations rippled through him, staggering him. He was so full and so ready to be even more so. “Wirt,” he whimpered, hips rocking despite the tight hold on his waist. Back bowing, he gave into his own need and came hard between them, coating their stomachs in his seed.

Wirt’s grip lessened as he let out a pleasured groan, stroking Dipper’s sides as he came down, his clenched muscles and spasms only adding to his post-orgasmic haze. He lowered his head, peppering dazed, damp kisses along his collarbone and chest, the mark of his own claim throbbing pleasantly. “Dipper,” he purred between kisses. “My Dipper…”

“Yours,” was the breathless agreement, Dipper petting his hair gently. “And you're so mine. You listen so well, Wirt. So good.” Lips curved in a dazed, blissful smile, he brushed kisses to his hair.

The praise sent a lovely, little shiver through him, a soft sound from the back of his throat slipping out. Between that and the way he soaked up the attention to his hair, Wirt felt his face warm and hid it against Dipper’s neck, disguised as a nuzzle. “I did say I was gonna give you everything,” he murmured.

“Yeah, you did.” Dipper let his fingers skim down his spine, the gentle petting a direct contrast to the desperate grips seconds before. “Hurt you at all?”

“Mm-mm.” He rolled his shoulders a bit, relishing the sting from where his nails raked over his skin. “Just surprised me, mostly. What about you? You didn’t really… give yourself much time to get used to me.” Wirt lifted his head to look at him, cheeks still dusted with pink.

He grinned, nipping his lower lip and quietly fawning over the blush. “I’m fine, and very much used to you now.”

“That’s good to know.” Wirt traced idle lines and swirls across his chest with his fingers. “Especially if you still want to go for twice.”

“I absolutely still want you twice.” Dipper rolled his hips, relishing the feel of him moving against his sensitized walls. “If you still think you can handle it.”

Wirt’s breath hitched, back arching as his body couldn’t quite decide if it was painful or pleasurable just yet. “Oh, I know I can, just might need a minute still,” he managed, toying with one of his lover’s nipples, rubbing the bud between the pads of his fingers into a hard, little peak. “The real question is do you think you can handle it?”

He bit his lip, teeth dragging across it. “Mm... yeah. Absolutely.” He kept his hips still for his lover's sake, but his fingers began to explore his chest. With the first dizzying high out of the way, he could take the time to explore.

Hands stroking low on his abdomen, Wirt brushed their lips together, freeing Dipper’s from his teeth. “Any demands for this time?” he asked as he pressed into his touch. “You’re so good, I want to give you anything you want.”

Dipper shook his head before ducking it to press warm, open-mouthed kisses to Wirt's neck. “I very much got what I wanted last time. Now I think I want to follow your lead.” His teeth teased the mark he'd left. “Got anything to teach me, Mr. Palmer?”

“I might have a lesson plan or two.” Wirt tilted his head to encourage his mouth, moaning softly as hips gave an experimental roll. It was still so warm and tight inside him, welcoming as it inspired a light buzzing in his nerves as they reawakened. His length twitched while his hands avoided Dipper’s to knead his thighs instead. “One might involve seeing if I can make you come again without being touched.”

“Oh. You mean not at all?” Dipper writhed beneath him, unable to help the need to move even though it made him have to muffle whimpers against Wirt’s neck. “Definitely doesn’t sound like a boring lesson.”

“Right?” he huffed out a laugh as he buried his nose in his hair, nuzzling to soothe his whimpers. His hips started to rock as Dipper wriggled, giving him the movement his sensitized body seemed to crave. “I’m willing to find out if you are.”

“I’m so willing to find out.” His cock twitched between them, the idea of his boyfriend getting him to come apart without touching him a very interesting one. The movements within him certainly helped, Dipper gasping as he felt Wirt hardening within him. “Oh my god, so willing.”

“Are you? I don’t know if I believe you,” Wirt teased, releasing his thighs to find his hands, lacing their fingers together as he held them down to the desk, arousal heightening as Dipper tensed and relaxed around him, muscles twitching helplessly. He kept the pace achingly slow for now, each thrust long and dragged out, a direct contrast to their fast, desperate joining just before. “Might need you to vocalize some encouragement.”

His fingers flexed, as trapped as his body. Every attempt to quicken the pace was ignored, so he surrendered to it and let his lover lead. “What is this? An- oh,” he breathed, head falling back. His mind was melting away, heated by the sheer intimacy of feeling Wirt’s arousal heighten with those maddening thrusts. He’d never felt anything like it before. “An oral presentation?”

“Mm… mm, that’s an- an excellent suggestion,” Wirt groaned, taking advantage of his exposed neck to press his lips to the skin there. “A detailed oral presentation with- with sources.” His teeth sank in to mark him on a hard thrust, fingers tight around Dipper’s as heat washed through him. He’d never get enough of being with him. Each time was both like a discovery and like coming home, familiar and comforting, yet every little reaction he coaxed out of him felt new, like something to be treasured.

Dipper cried out, hips bouncing helplessly as he was swept away at his boyfriend’s pace. He’d always wanted something like this, a little fantasy built upon the desire to be wanted enough, needed enough to be taken twice right in a row. But this was better than his mind had conjured, this give and take. Even as he surrendered to him, he knew it would only take a small protest to get him to stop and wait if he needed it or change the game.

It was that knowledge and the security it brought that made the surrender easy and the tight grip of his hands acceptable. Only with Wirt would being held to an unyielding surface as he was taken be unbearably arousing rather than mildly worrying.

“What’s the- _nyah_! What’s the sub- subject? Is it the w-wet sound of skin on ski- _in_ , you connecting with me again and ag-gain in... in...” Words were so difficult with his mind fogging over, but he was eager to please his lover. “In, um, an intimate journey to completion?”

“Ah… That’s- that’s a good- so good, mm… start. Thesis. Yeah. You could… elaborate on the- the parallels between how much of me you can take in and how much you need me.” Wirt lapped at the bruise blossoming on his neck, breath hitching at each deep, hard thrust. He released Dipper’s hands with a little squeeze, then went to his hips to change the angle, to give Dipper more without curling his fingers around his cock bobbing hot and hard between them. “How I- I ache to fill you com- completely, with love and with o-our lovemaking.”

Dipper couldn't think well enough to respond right away, freed hands diving into his hair. “Com... completely. Take you- Take you all the way. So good inside me, so good around me. Need. I need... _Oh_! Wirt, Wirt!” He cried out, back bowing as the pleasure unexpectedly spiked.

Wirt aimed for that spot again. Again and again, his body trembling with each spasm, the sensual grip around him dizzying and too good, electrified heat swimming through his veins amplified by Dipper’s cries. The desperate calls of his name, the dazed babbling, it all swallowed him up, encased him tightly in love and desire and threatened to pull him apart if he didn’t go faster, if he didn’t give in completely and ride the current they’d fallen into all the way to their peaks.

“Dipper! Dipper, I need you- Need you, love you… so, so much…! Dipper-” he choked, the desk rocking with their bodies as he held him close, dark gaze seeking his.

It was difficult to keep his eyes open, tears welling as pleasure overwhelmed him, but Dipper met his gaze while his hands scrambled for purchase. His words steadily failed him, desperate mewls spilling from his parted lips. Between them, his cock wept messily, begging to be touched, but he was so close without it. Every thrust filling him entirely, completely, beautifully as he dragged relentlessly over that bundle of nerves, his sensitive walls.

Dipper couldn't take it, couldn't breathe. Wirt's cries rang in his ears, traveling through him as his hips jerked out of rhythm and his eyes went blind. Loved, needed - hearing it was enough, the final straw for his body. The tears fell as he did, Dipper falling apart with a shout of his lover's name as he came, untouched, between them.

As his seed streaked over their bellies and his walls clenched around him, over-stimulated and twitching, gripping, hot all around him, Wirt’s hips stuttered and his own wave of pleasure crashed into him. “ _Dipper_ ,” he gasped, thrusts turning shallow and frantic as he came inside him, filling him once again.

Thoroughly spent, Wirt let the desk support the brunt of his weight, his head falling to the curve of Dipper’s shoulder as he tried to catch his breath, his mind still a whirr of sensation as their bodies touched. Almost too much. Almost. Wirt nuzzled his lover’s neck, slowly kissing his way up to his cheeks to brush his lips over the trail of tears.

Dipper whimpered softly, eyes closing. The sudden gentleness had him trembling, fingers stroking Wirt's back. “I love you,” he sighed.

“I love you, too.” Wirt kept kissing him through the tremors, soft and light. “You okay?”

“Mmhm. Sorry. I just-” His shoulders moved restlessly, some embarrassment creeping in. “I'm okay. It was just a lot.”

Wirt shook his head. “You don’t have to be sorry. Just making sure. I know it was a lot.” His lips brushed over one closed eye, then the other before finally finding Dipper’s mouth. “I mean, I don’t know how I’m going to get through the rest of the day now. All I want is to curl up with you and not move until next year, so I get it.”

“If it wasn't the last day before finals week, I'd ask you to skip.” He threaded his fingers through Wirt's hair. “Really resisting the urge to ask you anyway.”

“If it wasn’t the last day before finals week, I would definitely take you up on it and call out sick.” Wirt closed his eyes against the petting, lowering his head to pillow his cheek on his shoulder again. “You could… stay. It’s just review day. I’d let you sit in my comfy chair, though you’d probably rather shower and lie down. I did make a pretty decent mess of you.”

“I didn't think I could stay.” He twirled a stray strand around his finger, content to lie beneath him as long as possible. “I'd like to hang out, see Mr. Palmer in action. If you don't think I'd be in the way.”

“You could never be in the way.” Wirt stroked over his heart as his own skipped a beat, a smile curving his lips as he snuggled closer. “And it’s my classroom, my rules. I mean, the kids might be a bit excited at first, but they’ll settle down pretty quickly since they want their study guides for the weekend. So I’d… I’d like you to stay.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Dipper wrapped his arms around him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I'll stick around. Your second period'll be jealous.”

“Oh boy, you know they will.” He lifted his head to grin at him, then leaned in to rub their noses together. “You’ll just have to come back another time so they can have a Q and A with the not-a-secret-serial-killer arsonist boyfriend in person.”

“No, really, I'm just _that_ bad a cook,” he joked, brushed their lips together. “Maybe if this goes well, you'll let me shadow you after the holidays. I need some book five inspiration.”

Wirt blinked, lips parting in a quietly awed “o.” “Really? You’d want to shadow _me_? But you already shadowed a teacher. I mean, you could- I’d definitely let you if my students don’t mind and we’d have to check with the principal if it became a regular thing, but I- wow, um.”

“I shadowed a villain, remember? And American schools are different.” Smiling, Dipper brushed their lips together again. “And you're really cute. But that's just a perk.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as pink dusted his cheeks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you just want to sit in on my classes to shamelessly ogle me and my sweaters.”

He laughed, his next kisses falling to his cheeks. “Good thing you know better.”

Absolutely in love with the man, Wirt could only smile at him adoringly, still petting every inch of skin he could reach. “Yeah. Yeah it is,” he agreed, lost in looking at him for a moment. He broke his own stare by wrinkling his nose. “How are you feeling? Ready for me to move so we can start cleaning you up?”

“I’m never ready for you to move, but you probably should.” Dipper unwound his legs, knees protesting the move. “Next time, we’re switching positions between rounds.”

“Yeah, I’m open to that. I think both our legs would be grateful.” Wirt rubbed Dipper’s thighs as he eased out, pressing their lips together to distract from the wet, stretched sensation. “Still okay?” he asked, ready to help him into a more comfortable position.

“Yeah, I’ll live.” But it was a rather uncomfortable life, the desk unyielding for his lower back. He was absolutely missing the comfort of bed, but it had been entirely worth it. Every bit of his discomfort had come from bliss that was twice as memorable and important.

Lips curving, he reached up to play with his incredibly mussed hair. “If you’ve got any secret fantasies, I’m very open to them. You just took one of mine and seriously shamed my imagination.”

Wirt blinked, his grin slow in spreading. “Oh yeah? Wow, well… I’m glad I was able to deliver. I’ll keep that in mind, though you know… anything with you in your glasses more than fits the bill.” He cleared his throat, fidgeting a little now that he was free to do so. “What was yours? The being taken by a teacher on their desk thing or…?”

“As completely hot as that is, no.” He ducked his head, hiding his spreading blush. “It’s- It was the, y’know, getting taken twice. Right in a row like that. Trusting someone enough to let it happen. I mean, as uncomfortable as it feels right now, I don’t actually _hurt_. So...”

“Probably would’ve been better on a bed,” Wirt mused, rubbing his neck. “I mean, I know I said I wanted you to feel it on Monday still, but I didn’t mean because it was uncomfortable for you on a desk. I’m not… I’m not into stuff that hurts, so I’d never want to actually hurt you.” Wirt glanced around for the box of tissues and sanitizing wipes he’d moved when he cleared off his desk. “Next time it’ll be better for you. I’ll take you twice somewhere much more comfortable and make sure you can have a nice bath or something after. If you still want me to, that is. Because I liked it, too.”

“I’m not into things that hurt either. I mean, I like getting bit and I really like that you basically embedded your fingerprints into my hips, but actual pain isn’t my thing.” Dipper watched him, content to fold his hands behind his head and stay splayed on his desk. “But this was totally my thing, and I’m all for us doing it again. Not really sure how you can make it better, though.”

Picking up the box of tissues, Wirt plucked some free and glanced up. His cheeks flushed as butterflies filled his stomach, his boyfriend looking sinfully content, naked and sprawled on his desk, still stained by his own release. Wirt pursed his lips, caressing his thigh gently as he let his gaze rove over him appreciatively. Taking the tissues, he started to mop up the mess from his belly, as well as what was in between his thighs.

“I think I’m up for outdoing myself. Like you said earlier, we can try changing positions and see how that goes. We’ll see if we can enhance the experience,” Wirt replied, cleaning him to the best of his ability given the materials and the fact that he was still very much taken by the sight of him.

“I’m very willing to give that a try.” Dipper sighed, shifting in a vain attempt to find a more comfortable way to sprawl but didn’t want to move away from the gentle touches. “I think I’m going to be sad if the construction’s ever finished and you have to move rooms. I’m really fond of this one.”

“Mm. Does it make you sentimental?” When Wirt finished, he placed a kiss to the inside of his thigh, then set to work on cleaning himself off. His brow arched as his lips quirked up. “Or do you like it because we can get away with having sex here and you can be as loud as you want?”

“Both, but trying to have quiet sex definitely has its appeal.” His grin was nothing but wicked as he sat up. “I'm sure you can think of fun ways to muffle me.”

Wirt snorted, then reached down to toss his boxers at him. “I don’t think it’s possible to muffle you completely, but I can try. We might have to do a few test runs at home first before I risk my job though.” He tugged his own up, pants quick to follow. “But I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Pretty sure this is going to be my room for a long time.”

“I wouldn’t lose you your job, babe, but heck yes to test runs.” Dipper slid off his desk, hiking his boxers up before cupping his boyfriend’s chin to catch him in a kiss.

Muffling his chuckle against his lips, Wirt pressed back into the gentle contact. “We can be ready just in case they ever do decide to move me.” He stroked Dipper’s side, then gave it a pat. “Speaking of moving, I think there’s still enough time before the lunch bell rings for us to sneak out and pick something up to eat if you’re up for it.”

“I’m in. We can take my car since I’ve got, like, the worst parking spot ever. It won’t hurt anything if I lose it.” He nipped his lower lip lightly before stepping back to locate his pants. “Your out to lunch sign’ll actually be honest this time.”

“I know, I’m usually such a dishonest person, I almost can’t believe it.” Wirt grinned at him, shrugging on his shirt and did up the buttons one by one. It was a wrinkled mess now after being tossed to the floor, but with his sweater over it, no one would be able to tell. He still attempted to smooth it out the best he could and fiddled with his collar as he watched Dipper collect his clothes from the pile on the floor.

“Oh, yeah. You’re just so untrustworthy.” Dipper snorted, fitting his cap snuggly to his head once he was dressed again. “Want help putting your desk back to normal or save it for when we get back?”

Wirt pursed his lips as he considered it, the bare surface making it all too easy to conjure memories of taking him against it. “It can wait until we get back,” he decided, clearing his throat as he stooped down to tie his shoes. “Just need to make my sign and then we can head out.”

When he straightened, he snagged a piece of printer paper and one of the markers from his drawer, scribbling a fast note out on it. “Did you happen to see where I put the tape?” he asked as he wrote: _Out to Lunch_.

“Yeah, here.” He snagged the dispenser and handed it over before picking up the vase and setting it on the desk. “So do you think your students are gonna put two and two together with me sticking around this afternoon?”

“Well, that depends on how I introduce you to them.” Wirt folded four strips of tape into little squares and stuck them to the corners on the back of the note. “I mean… I could just say that you’re Dipper Pines and you’ll be sitting in on our lesson for the day, or I could… let them know who you are exactly to me. I mean, they’re going to question you at least a little bit no matter what. Sixth period has absolutely no filter, I won’t be surprised if the first thing out of their mouths is, ‘are you Mr. Palmer’s secret boyfriend?’ So, I guess it just depends on how you want to approach that. Especially if you want to start shadowing me when school starts up again.”

“You know the kids, Wirt, so it’s whatever you think makes the most sense with them. I’ve got a journal in the car that I’m going to take some notes in, and I’ll stay out of your way.” After grabbing Wirt’s coat and shrugging into his jacket, he followed him to the door, handing the article over once he’d hung the sign and locked the door. “But I don’t mind them knowing if you don’t.”

Wirt slid his coat on, fiddling with the buttons as they started down the ramp, heading for the parking lot. “I don’t mind. I would tell them, I’m just not sure how much information about my personal life I really need to disclose to them. Or what’s appropriate. They don’t exactly cover that in the credential program.” His smile was sheepish and he reached for Dipper’s hand. “But I guess if my personal life is coming to school, then that gives me license to let them know.”

Dipper laced their fingers together, his laughter easy and far warmer than the December air. Snow crunched beneath their shoes as they made their way to his car. “How to behave when your boyfriend invades your classroom, a ten step program.”

****

\----

****

They made it back to Wirt’s classroom with just enough time to rearrange his desk and eat the Chinese food they’d picked up. Of course, since fourth period was the school newspaper and didn’t have a final to study for, not to mention the last paper of the semester had already gone out, it would be a free study period for them, so if Wirt had needed to finish eating then, it wouldn’t have really been a problem. Just as he’d promised, he let Dipper set up shop at his desk in his padded computer chair and drew one of the empty desks to the front of the classroom for himself to perch on.

When enough of the newspaper team looked curiously in Dipper’s direction, Wirt explained that his boyfriend had come by to see him and was sticking around for the rest of the day. That was enough to appease many of them, most quick to bury themselves in their science and math books while a few took a few minutes to fawn over the fact that this boyfriend had obviously brought the flowers sitting on Wirt’s desk and made sure to let him know how lucky he was to have a boyfriend who’d willingly come to school when he didn’t have to just to bring him flowers. Wirt assured them that he was absolutely aware of just how lucky he was, cheeks pink and only became pinker when they cooed over the blush in the first place.

“Is he going to visit more next semester?” one of the editors of the sports section asked.

“Maybe,” Wirt replied, tapping his pen against the stack of papers he was planning on grading while they studied. “If he only hears good things about my students, like how they’re quiet, good-listeners.”

“If that’s the case, then he’ll never come back just because of your sixth period.”

“We won’t count sixth period,” Wirt relented, sending a chorus of snickers through the room, two of the students on the newspaper also in his sixth period and were very much relieved by that.

When fifth period filtered in, Wirt pushed the desk he’d been using back into place since it was a full class, and took to leaning against his desk or standing at the whiteboard. Their eyes had also be drawn to the mysterious man in flannel and sporting a ball cap sitting at their teacher’s desk and the explanation for his being there went over well enough. They accepted Mr. Palmer’s boyfriend’s presence and immediately jumped into asking Mr. Palmer about the kinds of questions there would be on the final and if there were going to have to do the thing where they had to match the quotes to the characters. He confirmed that yes, they would, so most of the period was spent reviewing the three books they’d read that semester - the characters, the plot, and Wirt even made up a quick pre-test version of the quote matching on the spot for them to try halfway through the class before moving onto vocab and revealing the possible essay questions.

All in all, fifth period left in hopeful spirits and complimented the lovely flowers Mr. Palmer had on his desk on their way out. Wirt was relieved they’d been as well-behaved as he could've hoped, actually getting the opportunity to appear like a competent teacher in front of his boyfriend. Sixth period wouldn’t give him that luxury.

Sixth period hadn’t even started and it was already a code red for their distractibility. “Whoa! Mr. Palmer! There’s someone at your desk!”

Wirt sighed as he finished wiping off the whiteboard to start fresh with this class, then spun to face the first students to wander in, plastering on an astonished expression as he angled his head towards Dipper. “Oh my gosh, Brody, you’re right! You know, I had no idea that there was someone there. None at all. He must be a phantom, you know I didn’t even hear him come in.”

“Are you getting replaced, Mr. Palmer? Is he gonna be our new teacher?”

“I bet the school board finally had enough of his sass.”

“You know, if I ever did get replaced, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was because of my sass,” Wirt relented, crossing the room to lean against the front of his desk, making sure to stay out of Dipper’s sightlines. “But no, I’ll still have all of you to put up with next semester.”

“You know you love us!” Tim cheered as he flopped into his seat beside Brody.

“Is that what you kids are calling ‘migraine-inducing’ these days?” Wirt asked the rest of his class and they all smiled angelically.

“We’re totally your favorite class,” Hannah piped up.

Wirt gave a shrug. “Well, there’s never a dull moment with you. I’ll give you that.”

“So if he’s not your replacement, then who is he?” Brody asked. “Is he one of those guys that like… watches you to make sure you’re a good teacher?”

“You mean am I being evaluated?” Wirt pursed his lips, then glanced back at Dipper over his shoulder. “Well, I don’t know.”

“Mr. Palmer’s the best!” Tim hollered.

“We learn stuff! Like how to read. None of us knew how to read before Mr. Palmer, he’s a life saver.”

“Guys, you’re supposed to be the honors class. If he was sent here to evaluate me, I’m pretty sure he’d know that,” Wirt reminded them.

“He’s obviously not though,” Pamela replied. “I mean, they wear suits and stuff. This guy looks like a sad lumberjack.”

“Oh my gosh, Pamela, that’s rude!”

“He’s like right there!”

“What? His hat is three billion years old and he’s wearing flannel! Total lumberjack. But like… he’s not all beardy and muscley and gross. So sad lumberjack. It makes sense.”

“Well, I think he looks cute,” Wirt put in, casting his boyfriend another look, this one super apologetic.

Tim suddenly slammed his palm on his desk and stood up, the room going silent as they all looked to him. “He’s your boyfriend!” he declared, pointing at him.

“Yes, he is,” Wirt confirmed, and the room gasped collectively before erupting in a cacophony of confused questions, the bell also choosing that moment in particular to ring and signal the start of class. “Hey, hey, settle down people. Zip- come on, guys, just zip it for five seconds okay? We zipped? Alright. I would like you all to meet my boyfriend. He’ll be sitting in on class today and as of now, even though I know I’m asking for the impossible now, I’d appreciate it if you were all on your best behavior- yes, Pamela?” he asked when her hand shot up.

“Did he bring you those flowers on your desk? You didn’t have those yesterday.”

Wirt nodded. “Yes, he did. Now, we’re going to-”

“Why? What did you do to deserve flowers?”

Wirt made a face, but continued nonetheless. “We’ll talk about the flowers later. We can talk about whatever you guys want after we do some review. That sound reasonable?”

“How about we get to ask five questions and then review and then more questions after?” Brody negotiated.

“How about you guys get valuable information for your finals so you don’t fail it?”

“How about we vote? Who likes Mr. Palmer’s idea?” No one raised their hands. “Who likes Brody’s?” They all did.

Wirt exaggerated a groan and the class giggled. “Two questions,” he bargained.

“Four,” Tim replied.

“One,” Wirt countered.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to go backwards, Mr. Palmer.”

“You mean there are rules to negotiating with your teacher to get out of doing actual work?” He blinked owlishly, appearing as honestly puzzled as possible as he looked to his boyfriend. “Did you know about this?”

Dipper shrugged, his grin bright. “Does that count as one of the questions?”

“I think it should,” Wirt replied while his class protested vehemently. “But it seems they've got other ideas. Okay guys, we'll do three questions, take it or leave it.”

“Are you the guy who was here last time Mr. Palmer put up a sign?” Brody asked.

“That's a dumb question, dude. Obviously he's the same guy unless Mr. Palmer's a player,” Tim told him.

“I dunno, he might be! That was like... before Thanksgiving, man.”

“Same guy, yeah. Adults are capable of staying together for more than a week.” Dipper glanced at his boyfriend, amused. “Got anything better?”

“Why does second period call you a serial killing arsonist?”

“Because your teacher exaggerates.”

Wirt straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. “That is not true. I didn’t come up with the serial killing arsonist thing, that was their theory.” He tilted his head towards the rest of the class. “Second period asked why I was so tired one day and it was because I wasn’t getting any sleep thanks to the fire alarm constantly going off at my building in the middle of the night, which meant evacuating the building and waiting for the fire department to clear the scene, or whatever. This guy here was the reason behind every single one of those evacuations, so while I was complaining, second period started wondering why and how someone could set off the fire alarm so frequently. Serial killing arsonist was the favorite of the theories.”

“You tell second period all the cool stories,” Tim complained.

With a grin, Wirt shrugged. “Second period does their work, so they get rewards.”

“Why are you visiting Mr. Palmer at school? Like… school sucks and you willingly came here. Is it like your anniversary or something?”

“No, it's two parts. First, I wanted to bring him flowers because I happen to like him. Second, I'm a writer, and I need to watch a teacher in action for my next book.” He pushed his cap back, grinning. “So there you go.”

While some of them were intrigued by the writer part, most of them were too busy cooing over the first part, albeit in an exaggerated fashion. “Aww, Mr. Palmer, he likes you!”

“You should kiss him!”

“Yeah, kiss him! He brought you flowers, he deserves it!”

“I can assure you all that I did thank and kiss him when he brought the flowers.” Wirt pushed away from the desk to go to the whiteboard. “Our deal was three questions, so now we’re going to move on to our review.”

“Technically we never agreed to that deal,” Tim pointed out.

“Yeah,” most of the class agreed.

“We didn’t really.”

Wirt sighed, uncapping one of the dry-erase markers. “Come on, class. Work with me on this. I want you all to be as prepared as possible for your final, don’t you?”

“We want you to kiss your boyfriend,” Pamela replied.

“Yeah,” they all chorused again.

“It doesn’t have to be a huge kiss. Just a little one.”

“Kiss first! Then final!”

“Look he’s blushing, he wants to do it!”

Wirt narrowed his eyes at whoever pointed that out, his cheeks definitely warm and only growing hotter with the attention drawn to his face. He pursed his lips, tapping the plastic end of the marker against his palm as he surveyed his students. He loved them, he did, but they were monsters. Each and every one of them.

It also didn’t help that of course he wanted to kiss Dipper. Why wouldn’t he? He glanced over at his boyfriend, gauging his reaction to the teenagers’ demands.

Dipper was trying not to laugh. What a group to end the day with. “Just saying, but you haven't kissed me since fourth period started. Pretty neglectful.”

Wirt’s cheeks puffed up. “Don’t encourage them.” Not that they needed encouragement.

“You’re so mean, Mr. Palmer. He came to visit you and you won’t even kiss him.”

“How do you sleep at night?”

The class snickered as they were subjected to his most unimpressed expression. “I kiss him, we immediately get started on the review. This is your last chance. You don’t take it, we’re not reviewing and you’re on your own for the final, got it?”

They sat up straight, hands clasped in front of them on their desks as they nodded in unison, looking far too much like a well-behaved classroom. Wirt eyed them warily, then set the marker down in the tray beneath the whiteboard and crossed to his boyfriend. He grabbed the back of the chair and swiveled it so they were completely facing one another, then cupped his chin with his other hand. He let their gazes meet for a moment, Dipper still impossibly amused and, unable to keep that from affecting him, Wirt’s lips quirked up before he leaned in and brushed them to his lover’s. Some of the boys started a drumroll on their desks while they whistled and some of the girls squeaked as the kiss lingered.

Before he could move away, Dipper kissed his way up to his ear and laughed softly into it. “This could be worse,” he whispered. “I bet they’d be pretty rowdy if they knew you had me under you a couple hours ago right on your desk.” He nipped his earlobe playfully. “Now go be a teacher, babe.”

Wirt hadn’t thought it possible to get more flustered, mouth gaping as he blinked at him for a beat, then managed a soft huff and tugged the bill of his cap down over his eyes as he straightened. “Watch it, kitten. I can write you up for Saturday School if you don’t behave.

“Now,” he cut off the delighted oohs of his thoroughly appeased students and rapped on the whiteboard with his knuckles on his way to retrieving his marker, “first we’ll go over the format of the test, what sort of sections you’ll expect to see, and then we can go a little more in depth into what you feel you need the most help on. After that, I’ll let you know what the possible essay questions will be and then we’ll see how we’re doing. Sound good? Alright, let’s get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick announcement about the remainder of this fic! We've got one more chapter after this and then the epilogue!  
> Chapter ten has already been written and the epilogue should be finished today/tomorrow, so no more long waits between updates!!


	10. Chapter 10

After a lot of stress on Wirt’s part, finals week passed into the bliss that was winter break. Dipper had avoided the campus, unwilling to be a distraction for teacher or students and had instead buried himself in book five, only resurfacing into the world once Wirt had returned home with a headache and nerves bubbling.

It had been a very interesting discovery. As stressed as his students were, his boyfriend was much the same way. He wanted his students to succeed, beating himself up as much as any kid would when a low score had to be tallied. Dipper had kept him stocked in tea and attention, pulling him away from his grading for soothing pets and talk about anything but the tests he was marking.

And then every day was Saturday. The first Monday of winter break had involved waking up to lazy petting and drugging kisses rather than the blare of an alarm, and then right back to sleep they’d both gone simply because they could.

Their cooking lessons had gotten a boost as well, no longer relegated to when they had time. One had happened at four in the morning, Dipper doing his best to corrupt his boyfriend’s sleep schedule. At least for the break while they had as much freedom as they could want.

Rarely did they part, and both were increasingly content to not do so. Whether cuddled on the couch making fun of awful movies or sprawled in bed, legs tangled as they read together or reveled in the aftermath of their lovemaking. It felt natural, normal. It was as if they’d always been together, coming and going freely into one another’s apartments. Wirt still knocked, but Dipper found the habit as endearing as Wirt found Dipper’s tendency to burst in with ramblings about a scene he was stuck on or irritation at his agent. Or, most exciting, with updates on the script.

Mabel fit in seamlessly when she felt like it, and Wirt’s closet was three sweaters richer and would likely find another boost after he opened his Christmas presents. Dipper was looking forward to them, as well as to the drive they had to Lakeville. If, of course, a question he wanted to ask went well.

It had been burning in him for a while, a stray thought latching on and wheedling its way into his mind. Their time during winter break had only cemented the notion further, and he was bursting with the urge to ask.

It was another big step, too fast for a relationship that had just barely seen two months. But big, fast steps worked for them in ways they wouldn’t have with anyone else.

He grinned at his boyfriend, breath coming out in visible puffs and he rolled a ball of snow. Quite a bit covered his winter coat, the result of an intense snowball fight Mabel had instigated. She’d left them alone for the time being, long enough for them to give up on fighting and team up to create the best snowman the apartment complex could offer.

“We’re totally naming him Oatmeal.”

“What?” Wirt barked out a laugh, on his knees in the snow as he smoothed out the rounded base, getting it ready for the middle piece. “Why Oatmeal?”

“Because I always felt bad for that kid in the movie. Everyone else is coming up with snow puns and he comes with something out of the box and gets shot down. Not cool.”

Wirt nodded, puffing out a soft “ah” of amused understanding. “I can get behind that,” he replied. “You just had me worried for a minute. I thought that was your way of saying you were planning on burning our creation to a crisp.”

“Wow.” Dipper tossed snow at him, not bothering to form a ball. “Eventually, I’m going to successfully cook something all by myself and you’d better appreciate whatever it is.”

“I will shout from the rooftops that miracles can happen,” Wirt laughed, brushing the snow off before chucking his own handful back at him. “And I will be so proud.”

“You’d better be. I don’t care if tastes awful. If it’s not burnt, it’s a win.” Dipper tugged at his coat, pulling him close for a kiss to warm cold lips. “Help me get the middle one on here. If it falls, it’s your fault.”

“Not sure I want that responsibility on my shoulders.” Wirt rubbed his chilled, reddened nose to Dipper’s right before flipping up more snow onto him. “But you are pretty cute, so I don’t see how I can say no.”

He stood up, shaking the snow from his knees. Taking hold of one side of the torso, Wirt helped Dipper lift the tightly packed ball of snow and placed it on top of the larger base. They pushed it down a little, doing their best to keep either from crumbling into chunks of snow while they meshed. “If all goes well with Oatmeal we should make him a friend.” Wirt brushed his palms together. “Porridge.”

Dipper snorted. “Absolutely. And then we can go beg Mabel for the hot chocolate she’s probably making anyway.”

“Excellent plan. I like the way you think, kitten.” Wirt sidled up to him, hugging him from behind. “And we can throw a bunch of blankets on the couch and get nice and warm.”

“This plan just gets better, babe.” Dipper relaxed against him, laying his hands on his arms. “Some kissing should warm us up even faster.”

“Mm. I’m always up for some kissing.” Wirt nosed just behind his ear, then pressed a kiss to it as he squeezed him.

“I’ve noticed that. It’s a good thing you’re very good at it.” He tipped his head back, leaning it against his shoulder. “At this rate, Oatmeal’s never getting a head or a friend.”

Wirt let his kisses trail along his jaw, smiling through each one. “Well, that’s just not acceptable. Oatmeal very desperately needs both. How about one more good kiss and then we’ll get back to work.”

“One’s not bad, but I say two.” Dipper turned in his arms, his own reaching up to hook over his shoulders. “Two’s better.”

“Mmhm.” Wirt caught his lips in the first one, keeping it warm and enticing as his tongue swept over his. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a guy with such great ideas and great kissing skills, but I’m glad I did whatever it was.”

“You were adorable enough to take pity on a guy about to lose his home. I’m glad you did it too.” He sank into the second kiss, deepening it steadily to make sure that two kisses were absolutely better than one.

A pleased little sound escaped him, breath catching as it effectively fogged his mind. “So glad,” he murmured when it ended, their lips still close enough to brush as he spoke, reluctant to pull away. “Mm… so you want to finish Oatmeal and I’ll start on Porridge?”

“I want to abandon them and snuggle with you on the couch with blankets and more making out. But I guess we can’t leave our poor snowman here, headless and lonely.” He rubbed their cold noses together, humming contentedly. “Should probably get to work.”

“The faster we finish them, the faster we can snuggle and get warm with hot chocolate and even hotter making out,” he teased, letting his nose wrinkle as he stepped back.

“You drive a hard bargain, boyfriend.” Grinning, Dipper knelt back down to begin compacting snow into a suitable head for Oatmeal the Snowman.

Wirt rolled the base for the second snowman, making sure to set it up right beside Oatmeal. He took a break from Porridge when it was time to find rocks for the torso and eyes, helping Dipper put the finishing touches on the snowman. He was a little more put together than the second, the couple cold from their time spent outside and eager to get back inside for their promised warmth.

“Honestly, I think Porridge looks like what porridge looks like in my head. I’ve never bothered looking that up, but is porridge just a weird word for oatmeal? Or is it something totally different?” Dipper wondered, unwinding his scarf as they made their way towards his twin’s apartment.

“It’s pretty much oatmeal,” Wirt chuckled, leaving his scarf on, but his gloves were removed and shoved in his jacket pocket. “They were meant for each other.”

“Perfect.” Dipper’s gloves were next and he rubbed his hands together to warm them. He quickly thought better of it, though, and took Wirt’s hands to warm them instead.

“How are your hands already warmer than mine?” he asked with a laugh, cheeks rosy as the warmth of the apartment building hit him and the sweet gesture made his heart flutter. “I swear you made more snowballs than me.”

“Honestly, that’s probably why. Constant motion. Warmth in friction. Science things.” Dipper lifted his boyfriend’s chilled hands to his lips, lingering in front of Mabel’s door.

Wirt bit down on his lower lip, grin turning enamored as he shuffled his feet. “Probably doesn’t help that I have really bad circulation,” he added, unable to suppress a shiver when his warm breath ghosted over his skin. “Maybe later we can create some more warmth with friction and motion and science things.”

“And get your circulation going?”

“And make yours even better. Nice and hot.” Wirt leaned in, touching their foreheads together.

“Mmhm. You wanna skip the hot chocolate and-”

“Are you guys talking in innuendo and standing outside my place like creeps?” his twin interrupted, and Dipper nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't heard the door open.

Wide-eyed, Wirt turned to face her, his own heart racing. “No, ah- we really were talking circulation. Mostly.” He held up one of his hands, leaving the other in Dipper’s as he gave a tentative little wave.

“Uh-huh. Come on. I was just about done with hot chocolate, so I was coming to get you. Unless you'd rather finish asking your boyfriend for sex, Dipdop.”

“Oh my god.”

Giggling, she stepped back to give them room. “Come on in.”

Smile sheepish, Wirt glanced at his boyfriend and shrugged before tugging him past the threshold. “Thanks, Mabel.” It was even warmer in her apartment than it was in the hall, both of them deigning to remove their coats, though Wirt observed Dipper to follow his lead in what to do once he had his arms full with his jacket.

He tossed it to the couch when he passed, leading the way to the kitchen. There was very little personality in this apartment as it was decorated and typically used as a show apartment, but Mabel had added little touches here and there, splashes of color in the throw pillows and the brightly colored blanket folded over the back of one of the two armchairs she'd knitted.

Dipper grabbed mugs with the same familiarity he had in his own kitchen or in Wirt's, setting them down by the pot on the stove. “So what do you have going on besides listening to us through the door?”

“Not much. Since you guys are leaving so early tomorrow, I was hoping you'd open my presents at some point today.”

Dipper shrugged, looking to his boyfriend for his opinion.

“Yeah, of course. If you want us to.” Wirt nodded, leaning on the doorframe. “We can give you yours, too.”

“Not that I had any ulterior motives, but yes. I want all my presents.”

“You say that like you have more than one.”

Mabel glared at him, but her lips twitched into a smile as she poured the drink into the mugs. “I know you well, bro-bro. There's more than one.”

“She's not wrong,” Wirt told him with a grin. “Even if you did only get her one - which is preposterous, I know, how could I have even conceived of such a thing - it combined with mine automatically makes two.”

“She doesn’t have to know that. We could’ve gone the cheap couple way and gotten her one thing. Y’know, from us to you.”

“What? You’re saying we could’ve gone a cheaper way and we didn’t?” Wirt feigned an expression of absolute shock, easing further into the kitchen to take one of the mugs Mabel offered to him, cradling it between his palms.

“Oh my gosh, you're both mean. Maybe I didn't buy you presents at all.”

Grinning, Dipper took a mug and toasted her with it. “Of course not. You probably made all of them.”

“Brat.”

Wirt chuckled. “Want me to go upstairs and get them now?” he offered.

“Nah, I got it.” Dipper set his mug aside and wandered over, stealing his boyfriend’s keys from his pocket and a kiss from his lips. “Get warmed up. Don’t let Mabel kill you.”

“I’m perfectly safe,” she defended.

“You’re a liar.”

“Well, I'm perfectly capable of defending myself, then,” Wirt amended, lips quirking up as they pressed back against Dipper's for another. “Have a safe journey. Your hot chocolate and I eagerly await your return.”

“Oh my gosh, you guys are so dorky. He’s going upstairs.”

“Stairs are dangerous,” Dipper laughed and ducked out of the kitchen.

“They certainly can be. Who knows what could happen on the stairs?” Wirt’s gaze shifted from Mabel to his mug and he blew gently over the steaming hot chocolate before lifting it to his lips for a cautious sip. It was still too hot for drinking, his tongue determined, but it was soothing to hold up to his face, inhaling the sweet aroma and soaking up the warmth it offered. “Thanks, Mabel,” he told her, smiling at her over the rim of the mug.

“You're welcome, sweetie. You can't be expected to cook everything. And since he can't pamper you that way, I will while I'm here.” She took a drink, scalding her tongue, but it was worth it. “Looking forward to seeing your family tomorrow?”

Wirt nodded. “Oh yeah, definitely. I know I just saw them at Thanksgiving, but I already miss them a ton. Greg’s been texting me almost non-stop since school got out for him. This is actually the first time he hasn’t spent the majority of his break with me since I’ve moved here. Our mom probably convinced him not to this year, because it certainly wouldn’t have occurred to him that the break would be a good chance to… I don’t know. Bond with Dipper, maybe, and get a chance to see what spending a break with him is like, that might be what she thought. Greg’s not that tactful, much less mindful, so I know it wouldn’t be his idea.

“But yeah, I miss him. Like you, he’s also getting multiple presents because I spoil him rotten, though I don’t think I’ll ever be able to top a signed copy of Dipper’s book,” Wirt chuckled and tried for another sip, smacking his lips against the satisfying taste. Definitely worth a few singed tastebuds.

She giggled. “He clearly doesn't have much practice matchmaking. The only reason I'm here or bothering Grunkle Stan instead of invading Dipper's apartment constantly is you. I love the way you guys are together. You're so great for him, Wirt.”

A pinkish tint colored his cheeks. “Yeah? You really think so?” He couldn’t help asking, especially after having been told by his own family how Dipper seemed good for him, with only Dipper’s opinion of him to go off of in return.

“Of course I do! You have no idea how hard I've tried to find him someone like you. Somebody who loves him for all his dumb quirks.” She grinned. “And then what does the jerk do? Goes and finds you all by himself. _With_ one of his dumb quirks.”

“I guess the fastest way to my heart is to stand between me and a good night’s sleep for two months. Who knew?” Wirt’s amused smile took a turn towards shy. “I do love all his quirks. I love him. I don’t know, he’s just… he’s pretty special. Completely special. I’ve never felt the way I do about him before.”

“Believe me when I say no one's ever told me that with a smile before - that he's special.” Delighted by him, Mabel reached out and patted his arm. “You're pretty special too.”

A small, breathless laugh escaped him as he shook his head. “Thanks. I guess I’d kinda have to be to invite a complete stranger into my house for cooking lessons, huh? That’s not exactly something most people would do.”

“Nope! But it was the nice thing to do. The right thing.” Mabel shrugged. “We've both seen that a lot of people don't like to do the right thing.”

“That’s true.” Wirt twisted his mug between his hands, shuffling his feet as he glanced down. “Thank you for letting me know you think I’m good for him. That really means a lot coming from you.”

“Just telling the truth!” She plucked up her twin’s mug, carrying it out of the kitchen and bumping Wirt’s hip with her own as she went by in silent signal for him to follow her to the living room. “So your brother’s, what, seventeen? That must be fun.”

She kept the conversation going, eager to learn what she could about him and his family while her brother was out of the way and she had a knack for slipping information from people that she’d learned from her Grunkle Stan and had perfected  during her time in the fashion industry. It was astounding how many insecurities models needed to have coaxed out and soothed.

She was grinning when Dipper returned, arms loaded with wrapped gifts, Wirt’s opinion on actually owning a cat further cementing an idea she’d already settled on. She hopped up, thrilled. “Presents! I knew there was more than one.”

“Yeah, yeah. Where are mine?”

“You got nothing. They were out of nerd things at the nerd store.” He stuck out his tongue and she giggled. “Just a sec. I really love your boyfriend, by the way.”

“That’s good.” Dipper dumped the pile on her extra armchair, smile warming as it settled on Wirt. “So do I.”

Wirt smiled back, leaning forward to set his mug down before settling against the couch, arms open to him. “That so? Well, what a coincidence seeing as I love you, too.”

“Is that a coincidence or is that me being incredibly lucky?” It was easy to settle into the embrace, sighing his contentment into a kiss as he relaxed on his lover’s lap. “I’m thinking lucky.”

“Could be both,” Wirt replied, happy to bundle Dipper into his arms and against his chest. “A lucky coincidence for both of us.”

“Oh my gosh. You guys can’t be left alone for ten seconds before you’re cuddling.”

Dipper grinned, rubbing his nose to his boyfriend’s. “I can’t help it. He’s really cute.”

A laugh bubbled out of him as the wrinkle to Wirt’s nose became more pronounced. “He’s also very cute. How can I resist cuddling him?”

“Resist long enough for presents,” Mabel insisted, her stack deposited on the coffee table. “You have the whole winter break to cuddle.”

“Which is only two weeks so we have to savor every minute of it,” Wirt teased, but his hold on him let up to let him slide out of his lap if he so wished.

“College winter breaks were much better.” Though he would've rather have stayed in his lap, he settled by his boyfriend's side instead. “Alright, what first?”

****

\----

****

They took their spoils to Wirt’s apartment, neither of them thinking twice about depositing their combined gifts in one place. Well, Dipper thought twice about it, but only after taking that first step into his boyfriend’s living room. Wirt’s reaction, or lack of one, was surely a good sign. They left everything a bit of a jumble on the armchair while Wirt went to his linen closet to locate a blanket for them to snuggle beneath on the couch.

Dipper crossed the hall to his apartment then to grab one more wrapped gift. There were more, of course, but he wanted to give him this one. A gift for Christmas Eve. He returned as Wirt was spreading the blanket on the couch, more folded on the trunk, so set the gift atop their pile of opened ones and banded his arms around his waist from behind.

“How many blankets did you get?” he wondered, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of his sweater and shirt to stroke the warm skin beneath.

“Mm, are you questioning my blanket pilfering?” His stomach muscles jumped at the surprising touch, then arched into it, pressing back against him with a soft laugh. “You can never have too many blankets.”

“Very true.” Dipper lifted to his toes, peppering the back of his neck with kisses. “Up for opening one more gift?”

“That depends. Are we talking an actual gift or is that your pick up line for tonight?” Wirt teased, enjoying the attention to his neck for a moment before turning in his arms to seal their lips together.

It broke on a laugh, Dipper's amusement clear. “Aw, babe, you think I'm a gift?”

Wirt hugged him close, rubbing their noses together. “You’re absolutely a gift, kitten. One I very much enjoy unwrapping on a regular basis,” he snickered, taking his turn to slide his hands under Dipper’s shirt.

“Now _that's_ a line.” He grinned, rubbing their noses together. “I meant a real gift, though.”

“I guess I could go for one more gift,” he acquiesced. “It is Christmas Eve. Who doesn’t like getting to open a few presents early? Let me just get one for you, too.”

Wirt brushed his lips to the tip of his nose, then eased out of his hold to go to the mini Christmas tree he had set on a table to decorate the corner. Underneath it, he’d stuffed the presents he’d been saving for his family, to help the room feel more festive. He hummed to himself as he rifled through them, debating for a moment before picking up a slender box with his boyfriend’s name on it and topped with a bright green bow.

“Is it a wand?” he joked, nabbing the rectangular gift he’d brought in before dropping onto the couch.

“Oh yes. I’m secretly a wizard and have finally decided to recruit you into a world of magic.” Wirt waved his arm through the air, voice lowering to sound mysterious, but he couldn’t keep from grinning as he joined him, lifting the blanket to curl up under it.

“Babe, please don’t tease the paranormal writer with promises of magic. Do you know how much research I’ve put into these books? Like. I learned palmistry from a psychic in freaking India.” Dipper snuggled close, a little nervous despite his playful words.

Wirt laughed, giving him a peck on the cheek as he laid the gift in his lap. “Alright, I'm sorry for not actually being someone who practices magic on a regular basis. It might not be a wand, but I still hope it's something you'll like.” His smile turned nervous as well, squirming in his seat as he pressed against him.

Dipper ducked his head, fingers fidgeting over the package for a moment before he huffed out a laugh. “Are we really doing this right now? We’re like dumb teenagers.” He offered the present, cheeks pink. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Wirt took it and toyed with one of the folded corners of the wrapping paper, his face sporting a matching blush as he smiled at him. “Want to open them together?”

“That’s a total copout, but yeah. But at the same time, no, because I want to see your face.” Dipper squirmed, running his fingers over the edges of the gift his boyfriend handed him. “Open yours first.”

“Okay. I guess since you suggested this, it’s only fair.” Wirt peeled back the tape and the paper encasing his present, heart skipping as he realized it was a book. He flashed him a brighter smile, nerves ebbing so he could focus on the excitement of opening a gift on Christmas Eve, a gift from his boyfriend, and opened it the rest of the way. His eyes immediately widened at the sight of the royal blue, hardcover book with the “The Colossus” printed in large, bold font on the front.

“Oh my gosh. Is this-?” Wirt’s fingertips stroked along the binding for a moment before opening the book to skim the pages inside. “It is. It’s- Dipper, you got me a first edition? A first edition of Sylvia Plath’s poems. Oh my gosh.” Wirt closed the book to reverently brush over the dust jacket, then lifted his gaze to seek his out, eyes shining and full of giddy astonishment. “I- this is _incredible_.”

Dipper's nerves faded into a grin. “Well, I mean, she kind of started this.” And with the question he was burning to ask on the tip of his tongue, he figured she should feature in this next step of their relationship. “And I had to get my poet _some_ poetry, and I know you've got basically all of her stuff and... I just wanted to give you something special because - because you're special. To me. Yeah.” He cleared his throat, fiddling with his unopened gift to give his hands something to do. “You really like it?”

Wirt reached out with one hand to cup his chin and drew him in for a short, sweet kiss, lips pressed together firmly to assure him that he did. How could he not? It was absolutely special to him, a key component to them becoming… well, _them_. “It’s perfect. I love it. I love you. Thank you so much.”

“I love you too.” Dipper brushed their lips together again, pleased with his reaction. Going with impulse, knowing he was welcome, he climbed into his boyfriend's lap and cuddled close beneath the blanket. “I guess it's my turn now?”

“Yeah, guess so.” Wirt very carefully, as if handling glass, set the first edition aside on the couch so he could wrap both arms around Dipper. “It’s… I don’t know, I saw it and thought of you immediately, so I hope you like it and I’ll stop rambling now so you can open it.”

“You can ramble while I open it. I don't mind.” Dipper leaned back, relaxing comfortably in the embrace. He tore at the paper, much less cautious than Wirt. “Aw. You got me a box?” he teased. “How sw... oh.”

He blinked, a little wary as he reached in to pull out the slim, vibrant blue piece of glass. Intricate spirals flowed through the slim length, all encased in a clear, rounded glass to make holding it possible. “A... a dip pen?” Dipper tilted his head back, eyes as wide and bright as his smile. “Oh my god, it’s gorgeous! I'm almost afraid that I'm gonna shatter it, but oh my god. How did you even- Where do you even look for these?” He ran his fingers over the cool glass. “This is... I've always wanted one of these, but they're so impractical and just... I need paper.”

A weight seemed to be lifted from Wirt’s chest, allowing him to breathe as he watched Dipper’s delight in his gift. “Now?” he exhaled, hardly able to believe that he really liked it that much. “Wow. I just… I was kinda worried that it was impractical, but it was so beautiful and you’re so beautiful, I just thought you might… you might like it. And you do? You like it?”

“Okay, maybe not right now because cuddling, but I'm definitely trying this out as soon as possible.” Dipper turned in his lap, his side to Wirt's front, and tilted his head to run kisses along his jawline. “I promise I won't chew on the end of this one when I use it. It seriously is beautiful, and I don't want to ruin it. I just- Wow. I'm freaking out over a pen, sorry. I love you, babe. Thanks.”

Wirt tightened his arms around him, tipping his chin down so one of those kisses brushed his lips instead. His heart swelled with love for him, impossibly grateful for the chance to share the holiday with him. Tucking the blanket around his boyfriend further, Wirt nuzzled him and enjoyed the warm weight of him in his arms and lap. “Merry Christmas, Dipper.”

“Merry Christmas, Wirt.” Dipper tucked his head beneath his chin, the contented feeling of home washing over him as he toyed with the pen and convinced his lover to read aloud from his new book.

****

\----

****

An impromptu nap for both of them resulted in a late dinner. It had been so comfortable snuggled up to one another under the blankets, and after their snowball fight and snowman project a nap had been just what they needed, both awoken by empty bellies and the pins and needles that came with sleeping on one another on the couch. Still, it took some playful nudging and kicking before either of them moved from their tangle of limbs.

“So, what do you feel like? Cooking lesson or catch as catch can?” Wirt inquired as he opened the fridge, taking stock of what they had. While it was his apartment, his fridge, he couldn’t help but thinking of things as theirs, the transition a seamless one that he hadn’t even really noticed during the course of their relationship. “If you’re up for cooking we’ve got some steaks we could broil in the oven. Then maybe bake some potatoes to go with it. A baked potato sounds really good right now, actually.”

“Yeah, it does. We can cook. I mean, I'm hungry, but I'm not starving.” Though he reached around his boyfriend and stole an apple as he spoke.

“Gee, I wonder why.” Wirt glanced up to the ceiling, huffing out a chuckle as he took the meat out. “One of these days you’re going to turn into an apple.”

“Will you still love me when that eventuality occurs?”

“Mm… depends.” Wirt pretended to think about it as he faced him. “Do you think you’d end up a red delicious or a fuji or granny smith or what?”

He laughed. “Since red delicious is the only thing that doesn't sound completely awful, we'll go with that.”

“Ah, well, you just picked my least favorite apple,” Wirt snickered, then shrugged, unwrapping the two steaks to set them in the broiler pan. “So, I’m not so sure I’d be able to. Sorry.”

“You're such a jerk.” Dipper bumped their shoulders. “And here I was thinking you'd love me no matter what. I feel so disillusioned.”

Wirt grinned, bumping back. “Well, maybe I can look past the fact that my boyfriend is a red delicious apple so long as I don’t have to taste you. It means no more kissing, but that’s a small price to pay, I suppose. What kind of seasoning do you want for the steaks?”

He was retaining enough of the lessons to gather salt and pepper, but had no idea what else to get from the spice rack. “What were you going to use?”

“I usually stick with salt and pepper, but sometimes I like to add garlic and chili powder. Oh, and a little bit of olive oil.”

He grabbed the extra spices and the oil. “Let's go for it. It's Christmas Eve. Why not?” With the containers deposited at his boyfriend's elbow, Dipper flitted to the pantry for potatoes and then to the silverware drawer to begin stabbing holes into the... vegetables? His lips pursed as he turned the thing over. What the heck were potatoes? He shook his head, grabbing the second to begin jabbing it as well. “You know, I think I might actually be starting to get the hang of this.”

“You definitely are.” Wirt looked up from lightly brushing the steaks with the olive oil to smile at him, taking a moment to watch him work - not because he needed the supervision, but because it felt good to be able to. “At this rate you’re not going to need me for much longer in order to feed yourself. And just like any teacher, that makes me both very proud and very sad.” He sprinkled the seasonings over the meat before going to turn on the broiler.

“Don't worry. I think we've got a while before that happens.” Setting the potatoes aside, Dipper wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist and watched him up the temperature. “And even if I can cook on my own, I don't think I'd want to.”

“Yeah?” Wirt left it to heat up and turned in his arms to brush his lips to Dipper’s neck. “Well, you can always cook with me. Even at four in the morning when I have to teach the next day.”

“I wouldn't do that to you.” He grinned. “Often. Especially not now that I know how much energy your sixth period requires.”

“They’re terrors aren’t they?” Wirt muffled his laugh against his shoulder, then pulled back to meet his gaze. “And you’ll get to witness more of it if you start shadowing me. You’ll need to stock up your energy, too.”

“I think I'd like to. A couple days a week, avoid test days. Just the one afternoon was great. Book five was cruising until winter break.” Dipper nuzzled him, fingers slipping beneath fabric to stroke his back. “If we do it the correct way, my publisher will give you compensation for your time. Consult fee, basically.”

“Mm, you mean I could get paid to spend quality time with my adorable boyfriend?” Wirt arched under his touch, pressing closer to his chest, his fingers petting over his shirt. “Sounds a little like cheating the system.”

“Oh, no. It's perfectly acceptable and necessary. Let's see how a sass master keeps his composure while his boyfriend silently flirts with him across the room. This is important research, babe.” Familiar heat flared in his gut, but he battled it away even as his lips found Wirt's neck, lazily exploring the column. “Crucial, even.”

Eyes closing on a pleased murmur, Wirt tilted his head to give him more access. His hand lifted to rake through Dipper’s curls. “Well, in that case I absolutely demand compensation because you are incredibly hard to resist even when you’re not flirting with me.”

“Mm. So we'll set that up when school starts again. I'll get the ball rolling on my end when we get back from New York.” Dipper's tongue peeked out, joining his lips in their lingering exploration. “I tell you we booked the rooms already? I'm thinking you and me in a king bed all New Year's Day.”

Wirt squeezed him around the middle in a one-armed embrace as he continued to play with his boyfriend’s hair, pulse jumping under Dipper’s attention. “No you hadn’t, but that sounds really… really good. I am all for that plan.” He nipped at his ear.

“Best way to start a year,” he murmured, shivering and responding with his own nip just over his pulse point. His hands slipped down, dipping into his back pockets for a teasing squeeze. “Right now, why don't we-” The beep of the pre-heated oven had him jumping a bit. “ _God_. I hate cooking. I changed my mind.”

Wirt laughed, taking his face in his hands as he brought him in for a kiss. “Come on. We might as well finish since we’ve got everything ready. We can get right back to making out and whatever else you had in mind after the dishes.”

“I had getting my hands on you in mind. All of you.” But he let him go for the time being, watching quietly. His teeth sank into his lower lip as he thought. He'd never asked his question, and Christmas Eve was nearly over.

Rolling his shoulders, he leaned against the counter. “So... I've been thinking. You know, hypothetically. A live-in cook would be pretty handy.”

As he slid the broiler pan into the oven, Wirt blinked and paused a moment. “What?” His laugh small and breathless, figuring this was still playing off the fact that Dipper supposedly hated cooking now and more of a game than a serious suggestion, Wirt closed the oven door behind the steaks and checked his watch to make a mental note of when to turn them. “I guess it would be, but aren’t I basically your live-in cook as it is? And you don’t even have to pay me,” he teased.

“I know.” His heart fluttered nervously. “I still wouldn't if we dropped the 'basically.' Which I wouldn't mind doing. Hypothetically.”

This time his pause lasted a beat longer, his own heart stuttering in his chest as he realized just what Dipper was trying to say. “Hypothetically?” he managed to echo, mouth going dry as he swallowed, the idea and implications racing through his head.

“Maybe we drop the hypothetically.” Dipper reached out, tugging lightly at his sweater before his hand fell and his gaze averted. “Depending on you. As my live-in cook you'd have a lot of perks.”

Wirt watched his hand, his own fingers twitching to take it in his, then glanced back to his boyfriend’s face. He was serious. He was completely serious. Butterflies filled his stomach while his chest remained tight. It was a huge step. They’d only been dating for about two months. It was too soon. Too fast.

Wasn’t it?

Like he’d just said, they basically lived together already. Nights were spent alternating between their apartments, their meals always shared, and each had an extra toothbrush and had grown used to using the other’s shampoo when they couldn’t be bothered to cross the hall to shower. The food in Wirt’s pantry and fridge was just as much Dipper’s as it was his, some of Dipper’s clothes were in his dresser and some of his were in Dipper’s closet. He couldn’t sleep well if his boyfriend wasn’t right there to snuggle with, needing to be wrapped up in him just as much as a blanket. Two months and they’d already fallen into a routine that worked. They worked. They were good together. Didn’t that matter more than whether or not it was deemed too soon or too fast? When had that stopped them before?

Wirt did take his hand, heart racing as he watched his face carefully. “What sort of perks are we talking about?”

Dipper lifted his gaze, swallowing. Was he really considering it? “You wouldn't get paid in money, but absolutely in kisses. Cuddles. It's not like you'd ever have to cook alone either.” He laced their fingers. “And, um, I'd make you happy. At least I'd try. I mean, I can't promise every day'll be good, but I can promise to try. Because I love you.”

“Dipper…” His hand trembled as he squeezed, holding tight to him as his heart swelled with love for him. Wirt brought Dipper’s hand to his lips, brushing a kiss to the back of it. A warm smile tugged at them, shining in his eyes as he gazed at him. “I love you, too. You already make me so happy, you don’t have to worry about that.” His thumb stroked along his knuckles. “You had me at kisses. Just seems like too good an offer to pass up. And you… you really want me to live with you?”

“Yeah, I really do. It's crazy fast, but... We're not slow. The slowest thing between us is how long it took us to talk. But... you know. You _feel_ right. I want you with me, Wirt. I want your alarms in the mornings. I want the tea cups you leave all over the place. I want your sweaters hanging by my shirts in the closet, and just... I want all of it. All of you.”

Their hands separated only so Wirt could wrap his arms around his waist and pull him close. Their lips met, Wirt dragging him into a deep, mind-fogging kiss, filling it with all he made him feel. His fingers curled in his shirt as they parted and rested their brows together instead. “You can have all of me. Whatever you want, whatever you need. It’s already yours. There’s no one else I’d trust to give all of me to, and there’s no one else I want more than you.”

“Seriously? I- You want to move in together?” With a laugh, Dipper slid his hands into Wirt's hair, pulling him down for another kiss. “I just... I love you, Wirt. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. I love you, Dipper, and I want to move in with you.” His own laugh spilled against his lips. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“It's completely crazy, but I think that works for us.” Giddy, Dipper slid his hands down his back, diving beneath his clothes to stroke his back. “After the new year, we'll go find a place. By that I mean you'll hopefully want to stay in this building somewhere. Maybe one of the two bedroom places if Greg ever wants to stop in or Beatrice invades or- I've been thinking about this a lot.”

“I’d be surprised if you haven’t been,” Wirt replied, playfully nipping at his smile, teeth tugging on his lower lip. “We can definitely check out the two bedroom apartments here. I mean, I didn’t put all that work into making it so you could stay here just for us to leave.”

“Exactly.” Dipper pulled him into another kiss, sinking into this one. His lips parted on a soft moan, relief coursing through him. Joy was on its heels, Dipper awed by the agreement. Awed by his boyfriend's happiness at the suggestion. “Our place. Our stuff.” His lips traveled over Wirt’s face, found his neck to nip.

Delighted laughter quickly spiralled into his own answering moan, everything light and airy and so bright inside him. “Our home,” he breathed, his fingers loosening their grip to slip under his shirt, petting the skin just above his waistband. “Ours.”

“And you already helped pick out some of the appliances, so those are already ours. I'm not going to get over saying that. Ours.” Dipper inched his clothes up, shirt and sweater, fingers gliding over skin. “I can't believe you're up for this.”

“I can't believe it either, but... it feels right. It's your best plan yet, kitten.” He grinned, kissing along his jaw as he wriggled under his touch. “Though it seems like you've got another brewing in that head of yours. Trying to get me out of my clothes? All this talk of 'ours' putting you in some sort of mood?”

“That’s not an objection, is it, babe?” Biting his lip, Dipper ducked his head, his shirt pushed up enough for Dipper to press a kiss just over his heart. “Because maybe I want to show my boyfriend just how lucky he makes me feel. And maybe my boyfriend will enjoy what I have in mind for him.”

“It’s absolutely not an objection. Just an observation.” The excitement singing in his veins made it impossible to keep himself from getting swept up in him. Wirt shivered pleasantly at his lips on his chest, his hands lifting to card through Dipper’s hair before he nudged him until his back was pressed to the cupboards. “I’m all for showing each other how lucky we are and finding out just what you have in mind.”

It hadn't been part of the plan when he'd initially decided to chance the question, but when he was caught between an unyielding surface and his boyfriend, Dipper’s playfulness skipped quickly into warm arousal. Oh, yes, he was so very lucky.

He undid the little buttons pinning his sleeves to his elbows, rolling them down so Wirt's shirt could be pulled over his head and discarded. Mouth free to roam, his teeth caught one of his nipples, teasing it into hardness. “I think you'll like it. I think you'll like this a lot.”

His warm mouth and the graze of his teeth had him gasping, pulse jumping as his own need pooled in his belly. “Yeah?” he breathed, peeling Dipper’s shirt off and away, touch smoothing over his stomach while he pressed his thigh between his boyfriend’s legs. “I have a feeling you’re right. I trust you.”

“You're very smart that way,” Dipper hummed, lips descending onto the other nipple to give it the same treatment. His hands skimmed down to undo the button of his slacks and draw down the zipper. His hips rocked, shameless and eager for the sensations being with his lover wrought. “How's that circulation of yours?”

A soft moan gave way to a breathless laugh. “I think it might need some more help… heating up,” Wirt told him as his hips rolled to meet Dipper’s with satisfying, electrified friction. “But I don’t doubt that you can take care of it. You’re so good at taking care of what’s yours, after all.” His hand slid around to cup and knead his ass through his jeans, the other hand petting along his spine and all the skin available to him.

“Mm... Helps that I can count on you to take care of me right back.” Dipper lifted to his toes, tugging Wirt’s pants down his legs. Fingers kneaded his thighs, slipping teasingly beneath his boxers. “Also helps that you're gorgeous and maybe that I love you. At least a little.”

Nerves alight with each touch, Wirt pressed closer to him, eager to feel him completely against him as his arousal throbbed. “You love me only a little?” he teased, knowing what he meant as he kissed along the column of his throat while his fingers undid his pants next to ease them down. “That doesn’t seem right when I love you a whole lot, does it?”

Dipper cupped his hips, huffing out a little laugh. “I'll forgive the sass since you claim to love me.” Ducking his head, he caught Wirt’s lips with his own. “For the record, though, I love you a whole lot. I love you more than I can measure.”

“I know. You show me every day, in countless ways.” Wirt drew him in for another kiss, his hips rocking despite the hold Dipper had on them. “And my love for you isn’t just a claim. It’s a fact.” His lover’s boxers followed his pants to pool on the floor. Wirt stroked along his hardening shaft, only to curl his fingers around him and start pumping him.

“A very... very important fact,” he managed. Moving his hips in time with his hand, Dipper bit his lip and pushed Wirt’s boxers down. Baring him to his greedy gaze and deft fingers, wrapping around his shift to knead. “Babe...”

“Ah… kitten…” Wirt’s breath hitched, the muscles in his thighs jumping as he bucked into his hand. The skin on skin contact delicious, and he craved more of it. He rubbed his thumb over the head of Dipper’s cock, breaking the rhythm for a moment to give him that extra bit of attention. “Should-? Mm, should we move to… somewhere more-?”

“Horizontal?” Breathless, the extra touch pulling a moan from him, he shook his head. “Uh-uh. There’s a perfectly good floor right here.” Though he was loathe to lose the contact, he started to slide down. Tongue, teeth, and lips explored his skin, dampening it with each nibble or open-mouthed kiss. “And I'm pretty interested in finding out how long you can stay upright.”

“Oh my gosh,” he exhaled shakily, a pleasant shiver working its way through him as his mouth had heat swimming through his veins, his fingertips dragging over Dipper’s back and along his shoulders. One hand curled into his hair, the other braced him on the counter behind his lover, his knees already weak. “Dipper, you can’t… saying things like that won’t keep me standing for long.”

“If just talking topples you, wait until I actually get my mouth where I want it,” he teased, hitting his knees. His mouth ended up at his hip, nipping lightly while his hand cupped his length, stroking the heated flesh. His other hand grasped his jeans, retrieving his glasses case and a packet of lube from the pockets.

He ducked his head to push the frames on, a smirk curving his lips when he looked up again. “I'm going to drive you crazy,” he purred, tongue sweeping across the head of his cock.

A weak moan was dragged out of him as his knees trembled, arousal flaring at the sight of him, the feel of his wet tongue toying with him. His fingers pressed firmly against the countertop.“‘S definitely a good start,” Wirt managed, cheeks flushing under that devious, intoxicating stare. “I seriously can’t believe you had lube in your pocket. You been planning to seduce me this whole time?”

“I always have plans to seduce you.” His lips closed around his tip, suckling hungrily while his tongue swirled around the slit. “It’s your fault for being impossible to resist.”

“Look who’s talking- ah… kitten...” He trailed off on a whimper, biting down on his lip. That clever tongue and greedy mouth had his head spinning, gaze darkening and half-lidded as he focused on his lover on his knees, glasses slipping down his nose as he teased him with little licks and suckles. “Can’t- can’t resist you either.”

“Mm.” Lazily pumping his hand, Dipper trailed damp kisses along his length. “Good.” His other hand lifted, slipping teasingly between his legs after encouraging them to spread with taps to his thigh. A finger brushed his entrance. “Gonna let me have you?”

Wirt’s hips stuttered, the feather-light touch making the puckered ring of muscles quiver. “Oh yes. Yeah, yeah, you can have me. I’m already yours, so you can definitely have me. I want you to. Want to make you feel so good.” The hand in his hair raked through it, sliding down to caress his cheek. “I’m yours, Dipper.”

Dipper turned his head, lips pressing to his palm with a teasing hint of tongue. “Mine, all mine. And I'm yours.” His lips returned to his arousal, tongue rubbing sinuously over heated skin. The packet was opened, his fingers coated before they returned to his entrance. Teasing him by alternating between light touches and firm presses, pulling away when the muscles relaxed. “So pretty,” he cooed, and took him to the hilt in a warm, wet slide, the digit finally slipping inside.

“Dipper,” he whined, grip on the counter slipping to hold onto his lover’s shoulders instead, kneading the warm skin, as he clenched around the digit inside him. His knees threatened to buckle, hips rocking with sharp, little jerks as sensation rolled through him. His length encased in warm, wet, _good_ , while his body was being prepared to encase Dipper’s hot, pulsing arousal. He’d be filled with him, driving Dipper deep inside and let his boyfriend lose himself in him. The thought sent its own wave of pleasure through him. “More. Please, kitten, I want you in me. You’re mine and I want you so bad.”

Dipper wanted it, too, wanted to sink inside and drive his boyfriend over the edge. But he was going to have to wait, plans firm in his mind. He moaned around his length, head moving with the little movements of his hips. His tongue rubbed firmly against the underside of him, the weight intimately familiar. His hand cupped his thigh, making sure he stayed upright while a second finger thrusted inside.

Wirt’s head fell back on a silent cry, blunt nails digging into his shoulders as he struggled not to crumple completely under the onslaught. Dipper was relentless, every press of his tongue and flick of his fingers purposeful and drugging. His moans vibrated through him, making his toes and fingers curl while his own soft sounds echoed the pleasure he was being soaked in.

When his fingers brushed his prostate, Wirt was blinded by the intense swell of blissful sensation. Caught between grinding down so he’d hit that spot again, sinking deeper into Dipper’s clever, beautiful mouth, and losing both so he could have him - all of him - throbbing and thrusting inside him, he trembled and forced his damp, dizzy gaze to find Dipper’s. It only had him panting, seeing him with his lips wrapped around him, swollen and suckling, as his own dark, hungry eyes watched him from over the tops of his frames. Those glasses were going to kill him. Everything about Dipper Pines was going to kill him and he was moving in with this man on his knees in the middle of his kitchen and there wasn’t anything he wanted more in the world than that at this moment. Aside from him personally and pleasuring him, of course.  

“Dipper,” he keened, dragging the fingers of one hand through his hair, petting him adoringly. “So good, you’re so good. I love you. I love you, please. Please take me. Want to- I want- ah…! I want to make you feel good. Let me- hah- Dipper-!”

He didn't pull back, head bobbing as his fingers rubbed mercilessly against that spot. His cheeks hollowed, suckle firm and greedy. When he paused to give his leaking head attention, he looked up and gently pet his lover’s thigh. “I will, babe. I'll take you, but you feel good for now. You're gorgeous.” His fingers twisted inside, Dipper pressing in a third slicked digit before his head lowered again, lips stretching around his cock.

Wirt’s grip on his curls tightened, seeking purchase as he nearly doubled over. It was so much. He was being stretched so well, the burn of three fingers deep inside - twisting and curling and rubbing until he couldn’t breathe - made him clench around him, tight and needy, but pleasure had him opening up for him, letting Dipper slip in so easily. He wanted him and he wanted to come.

So much stimulation against that sensitive spot inside him was driving him right up to the edge. It was so hot and wet around his cock, lips pulling at him as if he could pull his orgasm right out of him. Wirt didn’t doubt that he could, the heat building inside, ready to burst. He did feel good, he felt incredible. Every inch of him craved Dipper’s touch, and every inch gave itself over to him. He couldn’t fight it. He didn’t want to.

He choked out his name, voice wrecked and wanton, lost to the way Dipper worked him up and took care of him. He took such good care of him. Hips stuttering helplessly, caught between two overwhelming sensations with nowhere to go and no way to stop it, his release spilled over into his lover’s warm, eager mouth.

Dipper swallowed him down, throat and tongue working even after Wirt was drained. His hand left his thigh to find the packet, his moan muffled by his length when he slicked his own. His fingers withdrew once he was satisfied, cupping his lover’s waist to help bring him to the floor. “Come on, babe. You're so pretty, so beautiful. Love you so much.”

“Dipper…” Wirt shuddered, arms banding around Dipper’s shoulders as he pressed against his chest to soak up his warmth. He could feel his arousal against his thigh, the lingering attentions in the wake of his release making it all too easy to reciprocate his need. His lips traced warm, damp kisses along his jaw. “Love you, too. Love you, kitten.”

Panting, Dipper gave his hips a squeeze and rolled onto his back. The floor was cool against his heated skin. “Come on.” With careful tugs and words of praise, Dipper guided Wirt over him, his lover straddling his waist. “I want you. Need you so much.”

Flushed and squirming, Wirt rolled his hips, teasing them both by letting only the tip of Dipper’s cock brush his slickened entrance. “You’re so gorgeous, too, though. Don’t you want to just… ‘feel good for now?’” he murmured, hands bracing himself on his lover’s chest, fingers tracing meaningless patterns over his skin.

“Wirt...” Dipper lifted his hips, throbbed with need, aching to feel his heat. “We'll both feel good.” His fingers found his length, licking his swollen lips as he pumped to encourage his lover’s renewing arousal. “We'll feel so good. Let me have you.”

“Yours, Dipper.” The friction against his shaft, still sensitive from orgasm, had him bucking into his hand. “I’m all yours.” Wirt sank down, sheathing Dipper within him, taking him to the hilt with quivering breaths as he felt him pulsing and hot inside. “Oh god….”

Head falling back, Dipper groaned. His bangs shifted, the man not thinking to lift an arm to cover what lay beneath them for once and his brow not sweaty enough yet to keep the curls in place. “Babe,” he breathed, looking back up, free hand clutching Wirt’s hip for support. “Mine. You're mine and so good.”

Wirt let his hips roll, eyes dark as he gazed down at him. “Love you, Dipper. Gonna make you feel so good,” he purred, keeping him buried inside to savor the stretch and very full feeling as his arousal heightened. He lifted up, nearly breaking their connection, then dropped his hips. His back arched as he cried out, eager for the hard, fast pace, to give it to Dipper, to give him everything. “Dipper…!”

“Wirt,” was the moaned echo, Dipper planting his feet to offer better leverage to meet his thrusts. His fingers tightened on his hip, bruising in his need to hold on. His other hand stayed warmly around his length, only pausing to rub his thumb against the tip, spreading the increasing wetness. “Love you. Good, yes, good, babe...”

Dipper pushing up into him was what helped him find that bundle of nerves inside him again. Moaning, Wirt clenched around him, rocking through it as stars blinded him - stars like on his forehead - to keep giving Dipper the glorious sensation of being surrounded, engulfed, needed. Wirt’s nails raked over his chest, pace only slowing so he could lean down and kiss him, greedy for whatever contact he could get as his hips undulated under his grip. His whine was smothered by the press of their lips, sloppy and wet as it was, panting and rhythm and the arousal building between them too much to maintain a deep kiss.

The tight heat had his own outcries falling into the kiss, unable to keep from moving. Every thrust, skin to skin, had pleasure mounting. Impossible in its highs, and still unlike anything like he'd ever felt before. Dipper’s hand slid from his back to stroke his spine, the tender touch the only way he could manage to convey it. Like coming home to find one thing had changed, yet still wrapped in the comfort of familiarity. He would never get enough of coming home to Wirt, his thrusts aimed as well as he could manage, seeking always to please.

Babbling his praises, Wirt met Dipper’s hips each time they lifted. His hands stroked over his chest as he broke the kiss, back arching into his touch as wave after wave of pleasure crashed into him. It was his turn for his head to fall back as he rode him hard, palms slipping over his sweat-slicked abdomen, seeking purchase, something to brace himself. The hand around him, the sweet petting against his back, and his length filling him, occasionally hitting right where he needed it, made him melt, overwhelmed with love and need and the feeling of being needed.

“Dipper- Dipper! Don’t stop- ‘s so good. ‘M gonna... oh god-” His keening cries spilled out, body trembling and shaft dripping as he got closer to his breaking point. “Come on, Dipper. Come on, please, please. Need me. Take me. Fill me, please-”

He couldn’t deny him, mindless meals pouring from him. God, yes, he needed him, wanted all of him. Dipper gazed up at his lover, watching him fall apart. Those dark eyes glazed with pleasure, face flushed with the same. Both hands cupped his waist, stilling him on the next thrust. Buried deep, Dipper let those clenching muscles and blessed friction yank him over the edge, and filled him with a desperate outcry of his name.

Wirt gasped and quivered as he was flooded with warmth, helpless to do anything but get swept away with the feel of Dipper’s release inside him. His hips ached to move, pleasure spiking at the way Dipper held him still, kept him from moving, his own mewls escaping as he shuddered under Dipper’s tight grip and watched him come undone, beautiful and blissed out and his, glasses and reddened cheeks and lips still wet and swollen as they parted for his name- it was too much. With a whimper, Wirt came over his lover’s stomach, dragged over the edge by the sight and feel of Dipper going over first.

As he came down from the dizzying high, Dipper released his waist to pet his sides. Fingertips stroked up and down heated skin, lips curving in a satisfied smile. “You're beautiful,” he murmured. “I'll never have enough of you.”

Panting, Wirt’s eyelids fluttered at half-mast as he pet over Dipper’s heart, so ready to curl up with him and not move for a few hours as his heart rate began to slow. “Good thing we’re moving in together then,” Wirt breathed, leaning down to brush their noses together. “I’ll make sure you have your fill of me every day. And then some.”

Moving in together. With a small, breathless laugh, Dipper kissed his cheek and wound his arms around him to pet his back. “I'm very much looking forward to that.”

“Mm…” Wirt hummed contentedly as his spine was stroked, the inevitable ache from being hunched over his lover, knees tucked against Dipper’s sides on the kitchen floor, of little concern when he could soak up this love and being wrapped up together. His eyes closed and he dropped his forehead to rest against Dipper’s, nuzzling gently when an image flashed in his mind. He’d been too caught up in the moment to have drawn attention to it when he’d seen it, but now that they were cooling down Wirt couldn’t ignore it.

“Hey, um… I noticed something while we were… you know.” He cleared his throat and opened his eyes. “Something… new.”

Dipper blinked. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Uh…” Wirt blushed, gaze briefly flicking to his brow, covered by his bangs once again. “I- I don’t know, I might be crazy or seeing things or something since you’d think I’d have noticed by now, but…” He glanced away, to his fingers as they traced a line and a rectangle against his chest among other swirls and shapes, then met Dipper’s gaze. “Do you have… freckles or a birthmark or something on your forehead? In the shape of one of the dippers?”

“Oh. I, uh…” Dipper locked an arm around Wirt, pushing himself up with the other. It wasn't something he wanted to talk about while flat on his back. His own cheeks colored, face hidden in his boyfriend's shoulder. “It's not really- um. I don't usually- It's a secret. Which is stupid. I'm an adult. I shouldn't be... afraid, I guess, to talk about it. It's just a birthmark.” He sighed, leaning away enough to push his bangs back. “It's just a birthmark,” he repeated.

The discolored skin did indeed look like a smattering of stars imprinted on his forehead, almost identical to the constellation. Wirt’s breath caught and he reached out to gently caress one of the lines with his thumb. “Why is it a secret?” he asked softly.

“Well... you know.” Nervous, unsure how to take Wirt’s reaction, Dipper kept his gaze trained on his collarbone and struggled not to fidget. “When you spend a few school years getting made of for it, you kinda learn to keep it hidden.”

“You mean people seriously-? Oh my gosh, that’s awful. It’s not like it could bother anyone, it’s just your birthmark.” Wirt tried to catch his eye when he looked at him, heart aching a little as he saw how uncomfortable he was with him knowing about it. He wrapped his arms around him tightly, shifting a little even though it had him quiver and gasp from having Dipper inside him still so his legs could band around him as well. He brushed his lips to the center of his brow. “A pretty special birthmark since most people can’t claim to have a famous cluster of stars naturally form on their skin, but still a birthmark just the same. I’m sorry people made you feel like you had to hide it.”

“I...” Dipper let his bangs fall, freeing his hands to draw little patterns onto his back. It was odd to feel shy when they were still so intimately connected, but it hadn't only been childhood bullies who'd reacted negatively towards the mark. “You don't think it's weird or...?”

“Mm-mm.” Wirt shook his head, eyebrows knitting together in concern. “No, I just- I didn’t know it was there, and it’s… well, it’s kind of exciting to find a new part of you to love. I think it’s cute. But if you don’t ever want me to draw attention to it or anything when we’re together, then I can respect that. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Especially with me. I don’t want to make you feel like you have to hide.” He lifted one hand to cup Dipper’s cheek. “I love you. All of you.”

“I love you too.” As relief swarmed, he steadily relaxed, covering Wirt’s hand to keep it in place. “You seriously think it's cute?”

“Well, yeah.” Wirt’s lips quirked up in a fond sort of smile. “It’s pretty much completely adorable. Just like the rest of you.”

“Oh.” Dipper’s gaze fell again, biting his lip, color dusting his cheeks. “Wow.”

Wirt huffed out a laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then one to his lips so his teeth would stop worrying them. “See? Completely adorable. Look at you.”

“I'm not. I'm just-” He shrugged, unable to suppress a smile. “I'm glad? I'm glad you like it.”

“I’m glad that you’re glad.” Wirt caressed his cheek, brushing the corner of his lips as they curved before letting his hand drop so both arms could encircle his shoulders again while he peppered kisses along his jaw. “But you seriously are. You’re gorgeous,” he told him between kisses. “I can’t get enough of looking at you.”

Dipper laughed, stroking his sides. “You'll have plenty of time to look at me once we move in together.”

Wirt started to kiss down his neck with playful, little nips when he realized there was an awfully strong… burning smell. Coming from the oven. Oh no.

Lifting his head, his gaze snapped over to the smoking appliance, the steaks inside surely charred, if not engulfed in flames. “Oh my gosh,” he wheezed while the fire alarm began to blare. “ _Dinner_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp. There you go. At least it's not Dipper's place that's on fire this time c:  
> And the boys are moving in together! Yay XD
> 
> Still have the epilogue to post after this, but I wanted to say thanks to everyone who stuck around for this and enjoyed the words skim and I put down. Who knew a little, funny prompt could spawn 10 chapters and an epilogue? I know I wasn't expecting it
> 
> See you in the epilogue :)


	11. Epilogue

He hummed as he worked, hips swaying side to side in time with the music pulsing through the headphones in his ears. Eggs sizzle in a pan, ham and cheese mixed into the scramble. As the white cooked into yellow, he split the eggs to place half onto either plate just as toast popped up from the toaster.

“Perfect,” he murmured, snagging a knife from the drawer to slather the pieces in butter and jam. He sucked a bit off his thumb before putting the cold things back into the fridge. Apple juice was poured into two glasses after a shake of the orange juice carton had him wondering which one of them had put an empty carton back into the fridge.

Though he was grinning before the thought could even fully form. Only one of them was that absent-minded. After tossing the carton, he loaded a tray with breakfast and heated it. The gift from Mabel had been given with a teasing grin - “Perfect for breakfast in bed! When you guys aren't setting the complex on fire, that is.” Well, she hadn’t been wrong.

He looked down when something brushed his legs. “No, you had your breakfast.”

“Mrow,” the cat protested, the bell on her collar jingling.

“We'll lock you out of the bedroom. Don’t think we won't.” Her ears twitched and she pranced out of the kitchen and into the living room beyond. “That wasn’t an invitation,” he told her, only sighing when the light jingling grew fainter.

He followed the feline, the Christmas gift also from Mabel. The living room was a mixture of styles, the duo having picked and choosed from their collections when decorating the new place - Dipper’s entertainment center, Wirt’s trunk of a coffee table, both arm chairs, Wirt’s more comfortable couch, and all six bookshelves, packed with books. Mabel sighed every time she came in, but it was home as far as Dipper and Wirt were concerned.

Their home.

As he entered their bedroom, the cat leapt onto the bed. He only shook his head, setting the tray aside and pulling out his headphones. They and the tape player they were attached to were set down.

Waving the cat aside, he climbed onto the bed and began placing warm kisses along the curve of his partner’s shoulder, fingers nudging the covers down as he stroked his back. “Babe, wake up. I'm hungry.”

“Mm…” Shifting against the mattress, face pressed against the pillow, Wirt mumbled sleepy nonsense. The scent of warm butter and cheese vaguely registered with him, his nose scrunching as he turned his head towards Dipper. “M’kay, make you something… when I wake up… five minutes.”

Dipper grinned, feeling very proud of himself. “No, now, before it gets cold.” The presses of his lips grew firmer, trailing up his neck. “Come on, babe.”

“Hm?” Wirt wriggled from the affection, a confused little murmur escaping as he blinked his eyes open. Gaze bleary and hair tousled from sleep, he lifted his head from the pillow to seek Dipper. “Wha’s gonna get cold?” he asked, feeling tiny paws step onto his back as their kitten settled on top of him.

“Breakfast.” He ducked his head, catching Wirt’s sleepy pout with his own lips. It was brief, his grin unable to be held at bay. “Toast, get off him.” The kitten's tail flicked, but she made no other move. Dipper just plucked her up and pushed his lover’s shoulder. “Wake up and be proud of me already. I've been up for ages.”

Wirt let himself be rolled onto his back, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm to help him wake up. “You- you made breakfast?” His eyes widened as the smell fully registered, gaze finding the tray before flicking back to Dipper. “By yourself?”

“I was hungry and in the kitchen anyway to feed this monster, so breakfast happened.” Dipper grinned, slipping back off their bed. “By myself.” Toast was set on the floor and the tray grabbed before he climbed back in, snuggling close to his partner. “It even looks edible, doesn't it?”

“Oh my gosh, it looks incredible!” Wirt gaped at the presentation as he sat up and leaned into Dipper. “You seriously did this by yourself and you didn’t burn anything? Kitten, I’m more than proud, I’m amazed.” Toast hopped back onto the bed and Wirt grinned as their wobbly-legged bundle of fluff tried to make her way back over to them. “Not you, kitten. My other kitten.” He kissed Dipper’s temple.

“I still hate Mabel for naming that thing Toast,” he mused, then turned his head to claim a kiss for his lips. “Which is also not burnt. The toaster and stove are both flame-free.”

“I can see and smell that,” he laughed. “What made you want to try it yourself instead of waking me up?”

“Because you looked really cute all bundled up, and you stayed up pretty late with a certain someone’s freshly released book.” And then sex, of course, because it had dawned on Wirt just who the professor was based off of. So, really, Dipper had been up just as late, but his sleep schedule was laughable anyway.

He picked up Wirt’s fork and pushed it at him. “Now try it, will you? I’m dying, okay? If it’s awful, lie. Channel Beatrice so you actually lie successfully.”

Wirt couldn’t mask his giggle as he took the fork, bumping their shoulders together. “I’m going to love it no matter what, even if it tastes horrible. It’s the thought and effort that counts.” He still scooped up a forkful of the scramble, though it was hard to take a bite with Dipper watching him, making him smile too much. When he closed his lips around it, he perked up, delight growing as he made sure his boyfriend could see his reaction. “It’s good. Completely, one hundred percent edible,” he assured him, nudging the plate towards him so he could partake in it as well.

“Okay. You’re either getting really good at lying or...” Dipper forked up some eggs and took a bite, blinking twice as the flavors settled on his tongue. It wasn’t completely perfect, the eggs not quite as firm as they would’ve been with another minute or two on the stove, but they weren’t bad. They actually were good. “Oh my god, I actually did this right.”

“You absolutely did this right.” Wirt waited until he swallowed before stealing a kiss, cupping the back of his head with his hand. “Look at you. First, successful home-cooked meal on your own. Think this calls for a celebration. We should call Mabel, tell her the good news. And your grunkle. No more calls to the fire department in the foreseeable future.”

Dipper laughed. “And you don’t even have classes today, so I can’t surprise you for our normal celebration. I clearly should have waited for Monday to do this.”

“But then I wouldn’t have had time to enjoy it. I would’ve been scrambling to get pants on and you would’ve had to feed me bites of breakfast in between me brushing my hair and tying my shoes.” Wirt rubbed their noses together, then let him go to grab a piece of toast, nibbling on the corners. “Besides, I’m pretty sure we can resort to our back-up celebration in the kitchen. Just as long as nothing’s in the oven. Or on the stove. Or in the process of being cooked at all.”

“Don't worry. I cooked - wait, in case you missed that - _I_ cooked, and all is well.” The cat bumped his hand, and he scratched behind her ear before slipping her a bite of egg. Not that he completely spoiled his cat buddy. Grinning, Dipper pressed a kiss to Wirt’s shoulder. “Maybe when we're finished eating, we can have some pre-celebration without leaving bed.”

“I think I’m up for that.” Wirt nuzzled the top of his head, then with gentle fingers brushed his bangs back to kiss his forehead, his birthmark. “You did cook. I don’t think I’ll ever forget today. It’s a day for the history books.”

Dipper simply melted. It was a weakness that he loved every time. Smiling, he leaned against his lover. “Don’t think this means you can skip out on lessons. I didn't get myself a live-in cook for nothing.”

Wirt grinned back and shook his head. “Of course not. I’ve gotta make myself useful to you somehow so you’ll keep me. You know, aside from apparently, somehow being inspiration for characters in your books, which I still don’t understand, but am in no way complaining about.”

“Trust me, Wirt. You're the most inspirational man I've ever met.” Dipper lifted a hand, laying it on his cheek. “And if Greg doesn't catch on as quickly as you did, I'll be so disappointed.”

“He probably figured it out in the first sentence of his introduction, to be honest.” Wirt nuzzled his palm, leaning into the touch before brushing his lips against it. “I love you.”

He replaced his hand with his lips. It still felt like home. “I love you, too.”

Wirt sank into another kiss, pressing as close to him as he could without disturbing their breakfast, only to laugh when Toast wiggled her way between them. “Uh-oh. Think that’s her way of telling us she’s going to eat our breakfast if we don’t put the celebrating on hold.”

“After I worked so hard on it, we're not giving in that easily.” Dipper lifted his fork, looping an arm around Wirt’s waist.

“No we’re not,” Wirt hummed, leaning into him as he took up the toast that was meant for eating and placed the Toast that was meant for petting in his lap, ready to enjoy one of, hopefully, many more lazy mornings spent in bed with breakfast courtesy of his fire hazard of a boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this story everyone! Sorry it took a while to get the epilogue out, it's been ready to go for a while now, but we are both incredibly lazy (but also pretty busy bees as of late, so maybe not entirely lazy). Anyway, we hope you enjoyed reading this little AU that got way out of control as much as we enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Keep an eye out for future AUs that might be popping up in the upcoming weeks! Will they be shorter than this? Longer? Only time will tell. Anyway, thank you all again! <3


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